


This Game is Called Surviving

by 2kimi2furious



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Slow Burn, The 80s AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8686759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2kimi2furious/pseuds/2kimi2furious
Summary: She came in through the bathroom window. 
Also known as the 1980s street punk AU no one asked for. A year in the life told as a series of drabbles.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the early 1980s in London and I was not born until the late 1980s and I am an American. Forgive my mistakes (or let me know in the comments so I can correct them)!
> 
> Also, each chapter is meant to be a drabble, so length will vary from chapter to chapter

He’s walking into the bathroom to take a piss when he sees the boy climbing in through the window. He’s young little punk, probably fresh into secondary school and he’s trying to be tough by breaking and entering. Gendry is deciding whether or not he wants to get his old cricket bat or to if he throw the little brat out with his bare hands when he notices the bleeding lip and swollen eye.

“Sorry,” the boy says, and that’s when he realizes this little punk boy is a little punk girl. She shuts the window behind her and stands in the tub next to it, back pressed to the wall, panting. “I just need to hide for a bit to lose ‘em. I’ll be out of your hair in five minutes.”

He still wants to throw her out, girl or no. You don’t just come into a man’s bathroom unannounced in the middle of the night and expect everything to be okay. But the girl looks pretty bad off; in addition to the cuts and bruises on her face, her hair is filthy and looks like it’s been hastily chopped off with no regard to length or style. Her clothes are torn and covered in grime and he skin looks just as dirty. She has a hunted look about her as she listens to the sounds coming from the outside.

“The little bitch disappeared,” a gruff voice from outside says. Although the sound is a bit muffled, Gendry can tell the man from which it comes from is desperate and angry.

“People don’t just disappear!” a second voice answers. “It’s an alleyway, there’s only so many places she can go! Check in the piles of rubbish.”

There are the distinctive metallic sounds of the rubbish bins being kicked over and piles of stuff being ripped through. The two voices outside are swearing profusely. The girl shoots him a worried look before sneaking a quick peek out into the alley. She watches for a second before resting herhead back against the wall. She closes her eyes and lets out a nervous breath.

“Maybe she’s gone into one of the flats.” One of the men says.

The girl’s eyes shoot open and Gendry can see the fear in them plainly.

“She wouldn’t know anyone who lives in this part of town,” the other voice answers.

“She might’ve found an unlocked window and crawled in. You take the left building, I’ll take the right. We’ll sniff her out. She’s got nowhere to go.”

There is a slight scuffle and then the metal ladders of the fire escapes start to creak under the weight of the two men climbing them. The girl is starting to panic. She’s breathing hard now and her eyes are darting around the room, looking for either an escape or something heavy to defend herself with. 

And even though Gendry’s angry about having his bathroom invaded by a stranger, he can’t just sit there and let these men come after this girl. Without thinking, he stomps towards the window and throws it open.

“Oy!” he bellows to the two men below. “The fuck are you doing?”

The two men freeze and stare at him.

“You robbing us, then?” he continues. 

“No, mate, we’re just--” the one on his building begins. 

“I’ll call the police on you if you don’t clear out this minute!”

“There’s no need for that,” the man tries to continue. “We’re just looking for--”

He doesn’t give them time to answer. Gendry reaches out for the nearest thing he can grab (his flatmate’s shampoo) and beams it right at him. His aim is true and it hits him square between the eyes.

“Seven fucking hells!” the man says, rubbing the spot between his eyes.

Gendry reaches for the bar of soap next and lobs it at him, hitting him on the shoulder.

“Get the fuck out or I swear the police will be here in three minutes!”

“We’re going, we’re going!” the man cries, scrambling to get off of the fire escape. He motions to the other man who tries to protest, but the first man cuts him off and tells him to leave.

Gendry reaches for his own shampoo and throws it at the two men for good measure. It doesn’t hit either of them, but it scares them enough to make them leave leave faster. He and his flatmate are going to have to shower with just plain water for a week before their next paychecks come, but the two men are gone. The girl looks relieved.

“Thank you,” she says. “Let me just wait and make sure they’re gone for good and I’ll leave.”

“Wait,” he protests. “You can’t expect me to have just witnessed that and to not have questions.”

Her look of gratitude disappears and is quickly replaced by one of distrust. She is suddenly suspicious of his motives.

“If I was going to give you up, I would have done it already,” he says to allay her fears. “Why were those men chasing you?”

She’s reluctant to answer at first.

“My father chose some very powerful people to make enemies of,” she finally says. “And they’re after me because of him.”

“Who were those men?”

She refuses to answer that one.

“Alright, alright,” he says, backing off. “Secrets, I get it. But why don’t you call the police?”

“They wouldn’t be able to help,” she says. “I tried. That’s how I ended up with this.”

She points to her black eye.

He woofs. “Those men weren’t--”

“No, they weren’t police,” she interrupts. “But the police are in their pockets.”

“Are you some sort of gangster’s daughter?” he asks.

She shoots him an angry look, almost as if he’s offended her.

“Nevermind,” he says quickly.

“I think they’re gone,” she says, looking out the window. “Thanks, and sorry again for dropping in unannounced. I’ll be off now.”

She starts to pull herself up through the window, but he stops her.

He feels like an idiot for this because he doesn’t know who this girl is and she is obviously tits deep into some bad shit that he does not need to be pulled into. But he’s got a soft spot for people who are down on their luck. And maybe an even softer spot for a girl who needs help. No matter how much like a boy she looks.

“You can stay here tonight,” he offers. “Just to be sure they don’t come back.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. She still doesn’t trust him at all. And honestly, he doesn’t blame her. He doesn’t quite trust her either.

“As long,” he amends, “as you don’t steal my things.”

She snorts. Robbing him is the last thing on her mind.

“I’d offer to let you shower too, but I just threw all of our soap out.”

“Sorry about that,” she says, looking a little ashamed. “I’ve got some money. I can replace it.”

“Worry about it later, yeah? Right now just make sure you don’t bleed everywhere.”

She steps away from the window, but she doesn’t take a step forward. She’s still skittish.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assures her.

“Don’t think you could,” she says confidently. Gendry has to stop himself from laughing at the thought of a skinny, broken thing like her besting him.

“Just let me take a piss, then you can clean yourself up,” he says. “And I’ll wake my flatmate up to let him know you’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“Don’t bother,” she tells him. “I’ll be gone in the morning before you all wake up.”

“Even so,” he says, stepping aside to let her exit the bathroom. “I’ll tell him all the same.”

She nods and starts to walk towards the door.

“My name is Gendry, by the way,” he says suddenly. 

“Arya,” she answers. Then she shakes her head like she’s forgotten something. “Arry. It’s Arry.”

He thinks Arya sounds more believable than Arry, but if that’s what she wants to call herself, that’s what he’ll call her.

“Nice to meet you, Arry.”

She snorts again, as if this exchange of pleasantries is the strangest thing to happen that night. But even so, she returns it.

“Nice to meet you too, Gendry.”


	2. II

One night has very quickly turned into one month. Arry wasn’t lying about having money, although she refuses to tell him where she gets it from. Even though she’s made it clear that her stay is only temporary, she insists on paying Gendry and his flatmate Hot Pie back for letting her stay with them. And their landlady is pleased that they’ve managed to pay their rent on time for once, so neither is going to complain about her money.

They found Arry a dirty old mattress and dragged in one corner of the sitting room. Gendry and Hot Pie strung up sheets around it to act as a curtain so she could have some privacy. It takes up most of the space in the room which would bother them if they ever entertained guests. But they don’t, so the arrangement works out nicely.

Arry is in a foul mood most of the time. It seems she only talks in her sleep. But she doesn’t complain about their mess, nor the sounds of Gendry plucking away at his guitar late at night, nor the pungent odor of marijuana that sometimes floats out of Hot Pie’s room. She keeps to herself and stays out of their way. Gendry has lived with much worse. Sometimes, he tries to talk to her so she won’t feel so isolated, but his attempts are largely unsuccessful. It’s like living with a large unfriendly cat.

This limited interaction has become routine until the morning Lem and Tom show up. It’s 8 am on a Sunday and they’re already stinking drunk. Sadly, this is not an unfamiliar occurrence and they were long-overdue for a visit.

“Let us in, you fucks!” Lem calls out as he bangs on the door. “We’ve got some good news!”

Gendry shoots out of bed, feeling like he’s about to have a heart attack. He swears under his breath when he realizes what’s happening. He storms toward the front door, not wanting to deal with Lem and Tom, but knowing they wouldn’t go away otherwise.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he hisses when he opens the door. “We’re going to get complaints from the neighbours.”

“Fuck the neighbours!” Tom says, pushing past Gendry and sauntering into the flat like he owns it. “Today is a day for celebrating!”

“Where’s Hot Pie?” Lem asks, following Tom. “Wake up that little piggie and have him do us a fry-up.”

“He’s not going to make breakfast for you,” Gendry says. “Why don’t you go home and come back at a more reasonable hour?”

“It _is_ reasonable hour,” Lem says. “In Sunspear. Hello, what’s this then?”

Gendry follows Lem’s eyes to the curtained off corner of the living room. The sheets are barely moving. Someone has hastily shut them closed.

“Leave it be, Lem,” Gendry warns following him. He’s trying to stop the other man from reaching the sheets. He isn’t successful.

Lem yanks the sheets aside meets Arry. Her choppy hair sticking up every which way and the oversized shirt she’s wearing (“borrowed from Gendry”) is falling over her knees. She must have only just woken up, but she is on the alert and her eyes are hard.

“Fuck off,” she says by way of introduction. Lem starts laughing.

“I like this one,” Lem says, clutching his stomach. “Who’s she belong to?”

“No one.” she answers.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone,” Gendry says, trying unsuccessfully to usher Lem away from her mattress. “She’s just staying here for a while.”

“You shagging her?” Tom calls out from the kitchen. He’s rustling about their pantry for something to eat.

“No!” Gendry and Arry shout at the same time.

“Can _I_ shag her then?”

“ _Tom_!”

“I’m sorry,” he amends. “Can I shag her _please_?”

“No one is fucking shagging me!” Arry yells. Her nostrils are flared and Gendry has never seen her so angry. He’s got the feeling, however, that that anger is constantly bubbling just under the surface of her skin.

“Alright then,” Tom says defensively as he walks into the sitting room with a bag of crisps in his hands. “I was just asking.”

“What’s going on?” a sleepy voice asks. Hot Pie wanders out into the sitting room, suppressing a yawn. “Seven hells, why are you two here?”

“Hot Pie!” Lem calls out, immediately abandoning the Arry situation and turning his attention to Hot Pie. “Just who I wanted to see.”

Arry takes the opportunity to yank her sheet-curtain shut.

“I’m bot making you breakfast,” Hot Pie says. And then he glances over at Tom. “And those are my crisps.”

Tom grins and continues to eat the crisps. Lem frowns at Hot Pie.

“You are a cruel, cruel piggie,” Lem says. “And I’ve come with good news and everything.”

“Don’t call me that,” Hot Pie says darkly. The two men ignore him.

“Tell us your news and leave,” Gendry says impatiently. “So we can go back to bed.”

“Tansy finally agreed to let us play at The Peach,” Tom announces. He waits for a reaction that doesn’t come. “Maybe you didn’t hear me: Tansy agreed to let us play at The Peach.”

“We heard you,” Gendry says. “We’re just not interested.”

“No interested?” Lem exclaims. “We’ve been trying to play there for ages!”

“We haven’t had a gig in a year,” Gendry says. “Maybe even longer.”

“I’ve got a job now,” Hot Pie chimes in. “One I have to be up early for.”

“You work in a fucking bakery,” Lem spits. “A fucking _bakery_.”

“Pays the rent,” Hot Pie replies. “Better than being in a band ever did.”

“Yeah, but what girl is going to want to shag a baker?” Tom asks.

Hot Pie doesn’t answer. He only pouts.

“And you,” Lem turns on Gendry. “You’ve got so much talent. And with your looks, you could have as many girls as you like. That barmaid. What was her name--Bella? She’s been asking about you.”

Gendry rolls his eyes. Bella had been trying to get into his trousers for years and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wasn’t interested and for some reason Bella (and Lem) couldn’t comprehend that.

“All the more reason not to go,” Gendry quips.

“I can’t believe you two,” Lem says, looking thoroughly disgusted. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?”

“Not this again,” Gendry groans.

“Yes this again!” Lem is angry now. All the mirth from before is gone. He’s always like this when he drinks. He can change moods at the drop of a hat. “Where would you be without me? Lying in a pool of your own blood in Flea Bottom, that’s where. I should have left you there to die.”

“Lem,” Gendry says, trying to calm him down. “ _Please_.”

“Fuck you,” Lem spits. Then he turns to Hot Pie. “And fuck you too!”

“I ain’t done nothing!” Hot Pie protests. But Lem doesn’t hear him.

“I ought to turn you in,” he threatens, turning back towards Gendry. “The Lannisters are still looking for you. Willing to part with a hefty sum for you, too.”

“Shut up,” Gendry says, his ears starting to turn pink. “You don’t mean it, so just shut up.”

“Like hell I don’t!” Lem is practically bellowing. Gendry _hates_ him when he’s drunk.

“Fuck you,” Gendry spits.

“Come on, Lem,” Tom pipes up suddenly, tossing the bag of crisps aside. “Let’s go. No sense arguing this morning; you’ll spoil my mood. They’ll come around if they know what’s good for ‘em.”

Lem is glaring daggers at Gendry, but allows himself to be led away by Tom.

“See you, Waters, Piggie Pie,” he nods to Gendry and Hot Pie. Then they’re out the door, leaving behind a quiet flat.

“I hate your friends,” Hot Pie says when the two men have left.

“Me fucking too,” Gendry answers.

“Why are the Lannisters looking for you?”

Arry has opened her curtain without the two of them noticing. Her grey eyes are unreadable as she gazes up at him. Gendry sighs. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation.

“I don’t know,” he says.

“Bullshit,” she spits. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, exasperated. “I honestly don’t know.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Hot Pie interjects. “At least, as far as I know.”

Arry shoots a look a Hot Pie and then back to Gendry.

“That man…. Lem?” She asks. “How does he know the Lannisters?”

“He doesn’t,” Gendry answers shortly. “He just likes to talk when he’s drunk. The Lannisters think I’m dead anyway. No one would believe him anyway if he did claim to have me.”

This is the most Arry has ever spoken to them. Gendry shouldn’t be telling her this. For all he knows, she could have connections to them and turn him in herself. After all, he honestly knows nothing about her. That fact is starting to make him feel more than a little uncomfortable.

“Are you sure you can trust him?” she asks.

“Lem? For the most part. He’d like the reward money, but he hates the Lannisters.” Gendry assures her. “He’s a Baratheon man through and through. He just… He gets angry when he drinks.”

Arry is quiet for a minute. Then two. Then three.

“Well,” Hot Pie says, breaking the silence. “If we’re all done here, I’m going to back to sleep.”

Gendry waits until he leaves, then he turns to Arry who is still quiet, withdrawn into her own thoughts.

“Why are you nervous about the Lannisters?” he asks.

She looks up at him, trying to decide whether or not she should tell him.

“Remember those men?” she finally asks. “From that first night? They were Lannisters.”

“Huh,” he says. He didn’t see that coming. “Why are they after _you_?”

“I told you,” she answers. “My father pissed of the wrong person.”

He’s not buying that explanation. If the Lannisters are involved, it’s never as simple as that. Of course, they’re after him too, and he has no clue why. He supposes he can’t fault her for that

“Who is your father?” he asks. “Someone important?”

Arry drops his gaze and lowers her eyes. The anger from earlier has dissipated. Now she just looks sad.

“Who is he?” he repeats.

“Eddard Stark.”

He doesn’t believe her at first. Eddard Stark is--or _was_ \--the Deputy Prime Minister, second in command to Prime Minister Baratheon. Since the death of the latter, Baratheon’s widow, Cersei, and Stark have had a very public falling out. All of Westeros was preparing for the inevitable turmoil until Eddard Stark’s untimely death in a car crash. It also unfortunately took the lives of he and his three youngest children, Rickon, Brandon, and…

“Arya,” he said, connecting the dots. “You’re Arya Stark. But you’re dead. Or you’re supposed to be.”

“So are you,” she points out. “But I’m not. And neither are my brothers. At least, I don’t think they are.”

“But they found bodies.” Gendry protests.

“The only one that identified was,” she said. “The other three were burnt beyond recognition. And I wasn’t even with him when he supposedly got into this crash. Neither were my brothers.”

Her voice cracks. She’s trying to hide it, but he hears it.

“Cersei Lannister killed him and had her husband’s men make it look like an accident,” she continues. There is conviction in her voice now and the anger has returned.

That’s a serious accusation. Cersei Lannister-Baratheon is a powerful woman from a powerful family. The death of her husband doesn’t change that. She still has ways of making slanderers regret their words.

“How do you know?” he asks.

“Because I heard her men talking,” she snaps. “And besides why else would she be going out of her way to make everyone think I’m dead?”

Gendry shrugs, feeling chastened,though he’s not sure why.

He doesn’t know what to say. Arry--no, Arya is sitting on her mattress, looking like she wants to either cry or punch something. She’s starting a hole into the floor and clenching and unclenching her fists. Gendry feels helpless. He’s made things awkward and now he doesn’t know how to fix it.

“I’m sorry,” he says dumbly. As if that is going to help anything.

She doesn’t reply, just sniffs.

“I won’t…” he begins. “I won’t say anything to Lem or Tom. And even if they did find out, they wouldn’t say anything to any Lannisters. I know they wouldn’t.”

“They’d better not,” she says. Her voice sounds more in control than it had before.

“Right,” he says. “Well. I guess I’ll go back to bed then.”

  
She doesn’t answer him, nor does she look up from her mattress. Gendry awkwardly turns around and heads back to his room, feeling like a complete ass. He really, _really_ hates his friends.


	3. III

A few days after the incident with Lem and Tom, Gendry heads into the flat and nearly walks into Arry on her way out. They haven’t spoken since she’d told him who she really was; in fact, he doesn’t think he’s seen her most of the week. It’s uncomfortable to say the least. He mutters a “sorry,” and steps aside to let her pass.

She takes a few steps out into the breezeway and then turns around.

“Gendry.” 

She looks almost as uncomfortable as he does.

“Thank you,” she says bashfully. “You know. For not telling.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies. 

Ratting her out would have been a bad move on his part. If the Lannisters knew where she was it would have only been a matter of time before they found out about him. You couldn’t just house a fugitive and expect to get away without a bit of trouble yourself.

But he wouldn’t have told Lem about her anyway. She was putting her trust in him. It wouldn’t have been the honorable thing to do, for whatever that was worth.

“Even so,” she continues. “Thanks.”  
  
And before he can say anything else, she turns around and hurries off to do whatever it is she does when she isn’t in the flat.


	4. IV

After their breezeway encounter, Arry starts to make more of an effort to speak to Gendry and Hot Pie. She’s clearly unpracticed at it, though. This makes Hot Pie laugh which makes Arry angry. Or rather, it makes Arry angri _er_. Gendry finds that she’s angry all the time and honestly, he doesn’t blame her. He had been angry too when he was younger, an orphan living in a foster home in Flea Bottom. But he’s had thirteen years to work off that feeling; Arry’s anger is still raw and fresh.

Gendry is draped in a chair that he’s dragged into the kitchen, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Hot Pie is rambling on about something Alyce said to him the last time he was at The Peach while he “experiments” with gravy for dinner. Gendry’s not sure what Hot Pie is doing, but it smells delicious. Hot Pie’s got a natural talent for cooking and Gendry would be jealous if he didn’t enjoy not having to cook himself.

As Hot Pie begins to ask Gendry to help discern the meaning of Alyce’s words, the door opens and slams shut again. Arry walks in and pops her head into the kitchen, short hair sticking out every which way, grey eyes inquisitive. She seems like she wants to join them, but she’s hesitant about doing it.

“Hot Pie,” Gendry says, seizing the opportunity. “Why don’t you get Arry’s perspective. She’s a girl.”

“She is,” Hot Pie concedes, looking her up and down. “But somehow I feel like she won’t be helpful.”

“Why wouldn’t I be helpful?” Arry asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Look at you,” Hot Pie answers.

She’s wearing the same pair of tattered jeans she was in when she’d first crawled into their bathroom window. She’s gotten a new shirt though. New for her at least. There’s not as many holes in it as the ones she’s used to wearing. Her hair is the same rat’s nest it always is and she looks tired and too thin

“What about the way I look?” she crosses her arms across her chest. She’s getting testy.

“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Hot Pie says, sensing she’s getting angry. He immediately begins to scramble, tying to talk his way out of the hole he’s dug for himself. “It’s just that I think you might be too different from Alyce to help.”

“Who’s Alyce?” she asks.

“She works at The Peach,” Hot Pie says.

“Hot Pie fancies her,” Gendry chimes in with a grin before taking a sip of his beer.

“Of course I do!” Hot Pie exclaims. “Have you seen her?”

“Everyone and their mum’s seen her,” Gendry answers, which earns him a glare from Hot Pie.

Arry rolls her eyes. It’s a small gesture, but it makes her seem a little more human.

“I’m not talking about this,” she scoffs. “Love is stupid.”

“Oh, but it’s not love,” Gendry teases. “It’s pure _lust_.”

“Shut your mouth, Waters,” Hot Pie says, waving his whisk threateningly at Gendry.

“That’s even more stupid,” Arry replies.

“Well aren’t you a romantic,” Hot Pie says glumly.

“My sister was a romantic. It ended poorly for her.”

Gendry doesn’t think Arry meant to let that slip, as she quickly shuts her mouth after she says it. She was talking about Sansa Stark, fiancee of the Prime Minister’s son Joffrey Baratheon. Sansa sided with the Cersei and her family in the fall out after Robert Baratheon’s death. Gendry is certain that she must be having a rough go of it right about now. It can’t be easy to go against your family like that. Not that he would know.

Hot Pie, however, is blissfully unaware of who Arry is and who her sister is and so he continues talking.

“Well it won’t end poorly for me,” he says confidently. And then a little less confidently: “As long as Alyce means what I think she means.”

And just like that, they’ve moved past Arry’s slipup. Hot Pie could be a bit of an idiot, but Gendry was really glad to have him around sometimes. His ignorance was good at dispelling akwardness.

“You’re worse than a girl,” Arry mutters, and just like that, she and Hot Pie have started to argue. But it’s more of a playful argument. Arry quickly finds that her wit is a bit quicker than Hot Pie’s and she can beat him at this game. Gendry sees her smirk, which is the closest thing to a smile he’s seen on her face since she’s been living with them.


	5. V

It gets easier to talk to Arry as time goes on. Before the end of the month, she no longer feels that she has to silently ask permission to enter into their conversations. She helps herself to their beer and doesn’t feel awkward bumming cigarettes from Gendry. She even buys weed occasionally and shares it with them. She won’t, however, go out with them at night.

Hot Pie and Gendry had given into Lem and Tom’s incessant nagging and picked up their instruments again. They do end up playing that gig at The Peach (which, as it turned out, is not as big of a deal as Lem made it sound). They are rusty and it is obvious, but The Peach’s clientele don’t seem to care. The are wound up for the main act and ready for anything. Gendry thinks that a cat in heat might have gone on stage to yowl for 15 minutes and the crowd still would have cheered.

Even so, it is fun. He and Hot Pie had each gotten real jobs during the year of their band’s unofficial hiatus, but they did miss performing. After many of the underground bands got big toward the end of the seventies, the whole music scene had been rejuvinated and it was exciting to be back in it. Their band (The Brotherhood) is riding on the post-punk wave and is starting to do pretty well for itself. They are out of the flat more nights than not either playing with The Brotherhood or watching other bands perform.

They invite Arry out to see the show, but she always refuses. Gendry can’t figure out why. It isn’t as though she hates the music. She sits for hours on her mattress with the curtains over listening to Gendry pluck at the strings of his guitar from the sofa. She even enjoys watching Hot Pie bang on the old drum set he has in his room. Sometimes he lets her play if she hasn’t made him angry yet. She isn’t bad, either. She is rough around the edges and unpracticed, but she can carry every beat Hot Pie gives her to mimic. And she isn’t shy about hitting hard. Gendry thinks it’s a shame she doesn’t get involved with the underground music scene. Some band is missing out on a natural born drummer. And he thinks Arry could benefit from banging out some of her aggression.

But no matter how many times he asks her to come out, Arry doesn’t budge.

“I’m busy,” she says.

“Are you worried they won’t let you drink?” Hot Pie asks. “Because if you tell them you’re there with us, your age won’t matter.”

“How old do you think I am?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, but you look about twelve. Maybe thirteen in the right light.”

That earns him a slug in the arm, which Gendry knows from experience is surprisingly painful. She is 18, thank you very much, although Gendry has to agree that she doesn’t look it. But he doesn’t voice that opinion.

“Are you sure you won’t come?” Gendry asks one last time.

“I’m sure,” she answers. “Sorry.”

She gives him a small shrug and an apologetic look. The conversation is over.

“Alright then,” he says, resigned that she’s just going to stay in the flat again. “Come on, Hot Pie, if we’re late, Lem’ll start drinking to pass the time. And we don’t want a repeat of the Kneeling Man fiasco.”

Hot Pie suppresses a shudder at the memory and follows Gendry out the door to play the show.

Arry sits on her mattress and gives them a wave before letting herself fall backwards onto the pillow.

“She’s a hermit,” Hot Pie says the minute they are on the street outside of their building. “She never goes anywhere.”

“She leaves sometimes,” Gendry counters. “I’ve seen her do it.”

“She leaves at weird hours, though,” Hot Pie says. “And she always goes alone. Like she doesn’t want anyone to see her. Something’s off with her, mate.”

“Maybe she works a graveyard shift somewhere,” he Gendry suggests.

“Maybe,” Hot Pie says. “But that means all she does is work and stay at the house. Doesn’t that get boring?”

Gendry shrugs.

“I’m sure she has her reasons for doing what she does.”

“Probably,” Hot Pie says. “But it’s still odd.”

“Hmm.” he agrees.

………………………………………………………

It’s close to four in the morning when they get back to the flat. Gendry is trying not to think about how hard it will be to wake up for work at 8:00 am. He’s dog tired and wants nothing more than to collapse into his bed and get what little sleep he can, but he also wants to wash off the grit and grime from the show. He stops by his bedroom to shrug off his jacket and boots, then he stumbles into the bathroom and takes his shower.

He’s wrapping the towel around his waist when he hears the front door open and he freezes. He thinks for a second that maybe Hot Pie has stepped out for a moment, but then he hears the tell-tale loud snoring coming from the other side of the flat and he knows that isn’t the case. 

“ _ Well _ ,” he thinks wryly. “ _ If you’re here to rob us, joke’s on you. We’ve not got shit. _ ”

But then he remembers Arry. She’s small and asleep, and no matter how tough she thinks she is, that makes her very vulnerable. And there are people after her. After him too, but mostly after her. His stomach drops. 

Securing the towel around his waist, he quietly inches the bathroom door open wide enough to step through. He creeps into his bedroom and retrieves the old cricket bat he keeps under his bed. Then, just as silently, he creeps back towards the sitting room.

He hears someone rustling about in the kitchen. Good. They haven’t made it to Arry’s mattress yet. They also haven’t heard him sneaking around so he still has the element of surprise. Heart beating fast, he steps around the corner and into the kitchen with his cricket bat raised.

“Seven Hells!” Arry cries. “The fuck are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Gendry says, clutching at his chest. His heart is still going a mile a minute and he can just kill her for scaring him. “Prowling around at 4am. You nearly gave me a-- What happened to your face?”

She turns away, but he’s already seen it. Her face is bruised and swollen and there’s crusted blood on her lips and nose. It reminds him of the night they first met. His mind immediately jumps to the Lannisters, but then he reminds himself that she probably wouldn’t have come home if that’s who’d done this to her.

“It looks worse than it is,” she tells him. “And not all of this blood is mine. I was going to wash it off, but  _ someone _ was in the shower when I got in.”

“Don’t even turn this on me, Arya,” he chides.

“It’s  _ Arry _ ,” she hisses, interrupting him. She shoots a quick glance in the direction of Hot Pie’s room.

“He’s asleep,” Gendry says. “Don’t worry. Now what the  _ fuck _ happened?”

She opens the ice box and roots around for an old takeout box as she answers him.

“I went to work and had a bad day.”

“That’s quite an understatement.” he retorts. “Is someone hurting you there?”

He didn’t know what she did for a living. He didn’t even know she had a job. He’d just assumed that she had been living off the money she’d had from her old life as the Deputy Prime Minister’s daughter. But whatever job she had shouldn’t have involved her getting bloodied up like this.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, pulling out a carton of Chinese.

He’s really worried now. Someone might be intimidating her. And if someone can intimidate Arry, it’s probably a very bad sign.

“Well, I  _ do _ .”

“Look, I appreciate you letting me stay here, but what I do in my own life is none of your concern,” she spits. “You’re just my flatmate, not my father.”

That stings a bit. More than a bit, actually. They’d just started to get on okay and now she’s angry with him for caring.

“I’m sorry if I’m a bit worried to see you walking around the flat at 4am covered in blood,” it comes out a bit more sharply than he intended. “I need to know if I’m going to have to worry about you bleeding out while I’m asleep!”

“You won’t,” she says with finality. She wants the conversation to be over so badly, but Gendry isn’t having it.

“What happened?”

She only looks at him with a frown.

“What happened?”

Nothing.

“What… Happened?”

She angrily tries to push past him, but he uses his size to block her.

“I’m just going to keep asking until you tell me.”

“I hate you,” she says, her voice dripping with venom.

“You don’t,” he says, although he isn’t quite sure he believes himself.

“I  _ can’t _ tell you,” she says finally.

“Why not?” he asks. “Is someone threatening you to keep quiet?”

“I can’t tell you because it’s too dangerous.”

“If you tell me, I can get you some protection. Lem and Tom might not look it, but they’re pretty good in a fight if you need them.”

“No,” she says impatiently. “It’s not dangerous for me. It’s dangerous for  _ you _ .”

“I can handle myself pretty well,” he says. He gestures to his bare chest. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of a big guy.”

“Not against these people,” she says quietly, dropping her gaze back down to her carton of Chinese food. “Look, just stop asking, okay? The less you know the safer you are.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” he says.

She looks back up at him, her face set in a line.

“Look, I promise,” she says. “I promise I won’t come back like this again. Tonight was… It won’t happen again and that’s all I can say. So stop asking.”

He wants to press her for more information, but something in her eyes makes him stop. She’s silently begging him as hard as she can without having to outright ask. So he backs off. He thinks it’s all he’s going to get out of her tonight anyway.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll stop. But just so you know, I really  _ can _ handle myself. And if something’s happening… If you’re unsafe… You can let me--Let  _ us _ know.”

She nods at him and goes back to staring at her Chinese. Suddenly Gendry starts to feel just how naked he is underneath the towel and he’s got a pressing need to go into his room and get away from her. But as he turns to go, she calls out his name.

“Thank you,” she says. It sounds almost strained “I mean, you’d be useless against these guys, but I appreciate it.”

“Uh,” he says. “Cheers.”

And then he disappears into his room.


	6. VI

Gendry doesn’t tell Hot Pie about his 4 am encounter with Arry in the kitchen. Although he’s Gendry’s best mate, he isn’t so good with secrets. Instead, Gendry starts paying closer attention to Arry’s comings and goings. He thinks if he pays close enough attention, he’ll be able to figure out what she does and why it meant she had to come home covered in cuts and bruises.

She doesn’t fit a pattern; at least, she doesn’t as far as he can tell. Her activity is erratic. Sometimes she will spend days in the flat without leaving for anything except to stop at chip shop. Other times, she’s gone for hours, only to stopping by for a quick nap before heading out again. She keeps her word about not coming back covered in blood, but Gendry starts to notice other things about her: her knuckles are often bruised and raw, sometimes she’ll wince if she turns too quickly, and occasionally she’ll have a barely perceptible limp. She’s very good at hiding these things, however, and Gendry suspects he wouldn’t have noticed them if he weren’t looking for them. 

He has dozens of different ideas about her “job,” each one more ridiculous than the last. In the end, however, he decides maybe he’s too stupid to figure it out. It’s one of her best guarded secrets, and she has many,  _ many _ secrets. He decides to leave the matter alone. He satisfies himself with just watching her, making sure that she’s never as bad off as she was the night after his show.

This lasts for about two months.

He’s let himself be talked into visiting The Peach with Lem and the rest of the boys. He tries not to visit The Peach unless he has to be there; the more he’s there, the more attention he gets from the barmaids. Some of them aren’t so bad, but there are a few who refuse to give him a moment’s peace. He doesn’t like having to constantly be on guard in case he gets cornered by one of them with amorous intentions. 

But The Peach is Lem’s favorite spot for a drink. And it  _ is _ the cheapest place to watch the Stags and the Dragons duke it out on the football green. Sometimes there’s no other place for him to go. And so Gendry finds himself a reluctant patron of the pub.

He’s already in a bad mood just being there. Bella is chattering away at him and he just wants to watch the game in peace. He resorts to being downright rude to her and she actually looks like she might cry when she hurries away from him. He feels guilty for that. And to top it all off, the Stags are losing spectacularly on their home turf. It isn’t his best night ever.

“Don’t be so glum,” a voice says. 

Gendry looks up from his drink to see Anguy sitting on the stool next to him. He slaps him on the shoulder and continues. 

“There’s always next year.”

“They say that every year,” Gendry replies with a grumble.

Anguy chuckles. He’s not as rowdy as the rest of Lem’s crew and he’s quick to laugh. Gendry has always liked him.

“Hopefully this time it’ll be true,” Anguy says, lifting his pint.

“Cheers,” Gendry sighs as he lifts up the remainder of his beer.

“That’s the spirit,” Anguy grins.

Gendry downs the last bit of his pint and slams it down on the bar.

“I can’t watch anymore of this shit show,” he says with a belch, nodding towards the television behind the bar. “I think I’m heading out.”

“You sure?” Anguy asks. “I’m sure Tom could convince Tansy to buy us a round of pity drinks.”

“I’m sure,” Gendry says. “Make sure Hot Pie gets home okay. I’ll see you later.”

“Later, mate,” Anguy says, lifting his beer to Gendry in farewell.

Gendry nods at him and gets up to leave. The night air is chilly and he rubs his hands together before shoving them into the pockets of his leather jacket. The flat isn’t a very far walk from The Peach, but he takes his time despite the cold. He likes walking. He likes any kind of motion, really. It helps him clear his head when he’s been thinking too much and gets into one of his broody moods. After tonight, he’s in desperate need of a good walk.

He takes the long way home, meandering through by-streets and neighborhoods. It’s mostly quiet, save for the odd sound or two coming from too-loud television sets inside the houses. He’s alone on the streets and that’s the way he likes it. Gendry has almost completely gotten the sour taste of the night out of his mouth when he turns the corner and hears a cry coming from a nearby alley.

“Fuck.”

He knows he should mind his business. His life would be so much  _ easier _ if he could only mind his business. He briefly tries to convince himself that what he heard was just a cat scrounging around in a rubbish bin, but the sounds continue. And then there’s the sickening sound of skin hitting skin and Gendry’s taking off toward the alley before he knows it.

It’s too dark to see anything properly. The only thing he can make out once his eyes adjust are the two figures. The smaller one has cornered the larger one up against the wall effectively preventing any sort of escape route. Steeling himself for something unpleasant, Gendry lurches forward into the alley and tries to pull the smaller figure off of the larger one.

It’s a mistake. The minute he has his hands on them, the person stomps backward onto his toes and elbows him in the gut. As he leans forward from the shock, They jam a fist back into his nose. Gendry’s eyes water as a sharp pain explodes on his face and knows that it’s been broken. The larger figure, however, uses Gendry’s pain to his advantage. While the smaller figure is preoccupied with Gendry, he pushes past them and runs out into the street. 

The smaller figure grunts in frustration, and Gendry thinks it might be a girl. She twists in his hands, turning to face him and then gives him a headbutt that sends him reeling. He involuntarily releases her as he sinks to the ground. When she’s free, she follows the man she’d been attacking out in the street. Gendry only sees a bit of her in the street light outside the alleyway and he thinks he might recognize her. But then his eyes go hazy and he sees nothing.

He doesn’t remember much after that. He thinks he must have blacked out, because he blinks and sees a shape hovering above him in the darkness. Then the pain comes back to him and he starts to go into a panic before the figure speaks up.

“I could have killed you,” she hisses angrily. And the voice is  _ definitely _ familiar. “I still might. You bull-headed idiot.”

“Arry?” he asks. His tongue feels thick in his mouth.

“You stupid, stupid boy.” she continues, leaning down to examine him. “What were you thinking jumping into a fight like that?”

“I thought…” he tries, but it hurts to think. “Trouble.”

She lightly touches his nose and pulls her hand away when Gendry winces. She sighs and stands up.

“Come on,” she says gruffly as she pulls him up. Although he still doesn’t feel quite all there, he notes that she is surprisingly strong. He shouldn’t be surprised, considering how she punches. “Let’s get you to the flat. Can’t do fuck-all out here.”

It’s a slow process, getting back to the flat. Gendry is having trouble seeing straight and he’s wobbling like a drunkard. But Arry is supporting him before long, she manages to get him home. The hardest part is getting up the stairs, but by the time they need to worry about that, Gendry’s a little more conscious and has better control of his body.

“Don’t go to sleep,” she says as she deposits him on the sofa. “I think you might have a concussion.”

“Fuck,” he swears in response. “Don’t you think the headbutt was a bit much?”

“You were in the way,” she answers matter-of-factly. She’s found a towel in the kitchen and is running it under the tap for his nose. “And besides, I didn’t know it was you. You shouldn’t have been there. Why  _ were _ you there?”

“Why were  _ you _ there?” he retorts. “I don’t know many girls that would be getting into fights in alleyways at this time of night. Or. At all.”

“To be fair,” she counters. “You don’t really know any girls apart from the ones that work at The Peach.”

And damn it, she has a point. But she’s deflecting. All he does is glare at her as she walks over with the wet towel.

“I can fix your nose for you,” she says. “It’s going to hurt though.”

“It already hurts,” he groans, wiping away the blood. “Just get it over with.”

Her fingers are long and almost elegant as she delicately places them along mangled bridge of his nose. Without any warning, she hits at the bone there, snapping it back into place and Gendry swears so loud the neighbours start to bang on the walls.

“It won’t be pretty,” she tells him. “But at least it’s straight.”

Gendry groans again and leans his head back, trying to figure out a way to stop the bleeding without hurting himself even more. Arry chews on her bottom lip nervously and watches him.

“Why were you in that alley?” he asks when he finally gives up. “I saw you there, you might as well tell me the truth.”

She doesn’t answer at first, too busy worrying at her bottom lip. Finally she answers.

“I was working.”

“Your job is to shake people down in alleyways?”

“Sort of,” she replies. “Well, really they aren’t supposed to see me coming at all, but this one was smart. But I got him in the end, though. No thanks to you.”

Gendry thinks his brain might still be addled because he’s not quite sure he’s hearing what she’s saying. Arry must see the look on his face, as she continues without being asked.

“That man,” she says. “The one I was fighting. He’s a very bad man. The kind that hurts children.”

Gendry grimaces.

“I get paid to make sure men like him don’t hurt people anymore.”

“So you’re a policeman--woman?” he asks.

“No, stupid,” she says, as if it should have been obvious. Gendry would be angry with the way she’s treating him if he weren’t in so much pain.

“The police are working with the Lannisters,” she explains. “It wouldn’t be very smart of me to work for them, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re a mercenary then?”

“You could say that.”

Gendry barks out a laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. No one is a mercenary. It’s just not a thing people do. Arry’s brow furrows as she frowns at him.

“You don’t believe me.” It’s not a question, but a statement.

“Of course I fucking don’t,” he says. “The Deputy Prime Minister’s daughter going ‘round bashing up paedophiles at night? Would you believe it?”

“You can believe what you want to,” Arry spits out. “But maybe the next time I find you bleeding out in the street, I let you stay there and die.”

“Wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for you in the first place,” he retorts. 

“If you would keep your stupid nose in your own business, I wouldn’t have had to hit you at all!” sje argues.

Gendry is getting angry. His whole face is throbbing, Arry is trying to blame him for the whole situation, and he just does not have the patience for any of it right now. He’d only ever gotten involved because he was worried that someone was getting hurt and he wanted to stop it. Any normal person would have commended him for it. But Arry isn’t a normal person and it drives him mad.

“Hello, hello” a voice rings out in a sing-song from the front door. The two stop arguing as the front door opens and a pink-cheeked Hot Pie enters the flat. Both Arry and Gendry redirect their near-identical glares to the flat’s entrance and he visibly shrinks under their gazes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting anything.”

And then he notices Gendry’s face.

“You look like shit, mate. What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, pushing himself up off of the sofa. “Some fucking psychopath jumped me on the way home.”

Hot Pie misses the pointed look he shoots toward Arry.

“I told you you shouldn’t be walking alone at night,” Hot Pie chides, completely ignorant of what had been going on between his two flatmates. “I’ve told you a thousand times.”

Hot Pie rants on for a bit and Gendry tunes him out. He scowls at Arry and she scowls defiantly at him in return. Finally, Gendry has had enough and interrupts Hot Pie’s lecture.

“I’m off to bed.”

“Wait--” Arry calls out

But he doesn’t stop. He’s going to let Arry have this one. If she wants to be angry with him, he’ll let her; Gendry has done nothing wrong and he refuses to engage with her any further. He goes to his room and slams the door a little louder than he means to.

He doesn’t fall asleep right away. He’s still a little hot under the collar and his face hurts too badly to properly relax. He strips down to his underwear and lies on his mattress to stew for a bit. When he’s glutted himself on righteous fury, Gendry picks up his guitar and practices until his fingers hurt and he’s more frustrated at the music than at Arry.

It’s two hours before he puts the instrument aside and decides to lie down again. His face is still aching, but it’s more of a dull pain now and he thinks he can ignore it enough to fall asleep. Gendry’s just settled into bed when there’s a knock on his door. He tries to ignore it, clamping his eyes shut and pulling the covers over his head. But the knocking only gets louder.

“You aren’t asleep are you?” 

Arry’s voice is muffled behind the door. Gendry can’t suppress the groan of frustration.

“You shouldn’t sleep,” she continues. “The concussion.”

The fucking concussion. Right. He throws off the blankets and walks over to the door. When he opens it, Arry’s there, still annoyed at him, but she’s also slightly worried. There’s also a bit of shock there; she didn’t expect him to be in just his underwear.Her eyes rake over him quickly before shooting back up to his face. He’s being petty, but he’s glad he threw her off of her game, even for a second. Serves her right.

“It’s dangerous,” she says. “You could have a brain injury.”

_ Yeah, _ he thinks.  _ One that you caused. _

But he’s silent. He looks at her, arms crossed on his chest. She stares back and for once she doesn’t have anything to say. Her face is set in a look of annoyance, but she drops her eyes to gaze at her feet. Gendry thinks she might feel guilty. 

Gendry sighs and takes a step back from the door. When she doesn’t move, he looks at her expectantly.

“What?” she asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“If I can’t sleep,” he says. “Neither can you. So come in and make sure I stay awake.”

“I’m not babysitting you,” she protests. He thinks her cheeks might have darkened a little, but it could be the shadows playing off the angles of her face.

“No, you’re not,” he agrees. “You’re taking responsibility for bashing my fucking head in. You’re staying awake to make sure I don’t fall asleep.”

“What am I supposed to do all night?” she asks indignantly.

“You could start by apologizing,” he says. “After that, I don’t care what you do. Can you juggle? Even if you can’t, it might be entertaining to watch you try. Can’t sleep if I’m laughing at you, can I?”

She has a few choice words for him. More than a few, actually. But Gendry doesn’t budge. Instead, he leaves her at the door mid-complaint and shuffles into one of the corners of his room to rifle through his record collection. Arry pokes her head in, watching him curiously as she still continues to complain. But Gendry continues to ignore her as he selects something to listen to.

Drowning out her voice with music only serves to make her more cross. But in the end, he supposes her guilt gets the best of her. She reluctantly slinks into his room and claims a spot on the floor. She begins to rifle through his music collection and by the time the sun has come up, they’ve sampled a good deal of what he’s got. It’s then she decides he’s probably okay and can safely go to sleep.  
  
Gendry is exhausted as Arry gets up to leave. He’s crawled back under the sheets and his bed is soft and warm. He is losing the fight to keep his eyes open. Arry’s at the door heading toward her mattress in the sitting room as he drifts off. He hears her mumble something softly as she leaves, but he’s succumbed to sleep before she even finishes what she’s said.


	7. VII

Gendry’s nose finally looks decent again. It hasn’t gone back to its normal shape, but he doesn’t think it ever will. The bridge is wider and flatter, making his nose turn up a little like a pig’s snout. But it isn’t swollen anymore and it doesn’t hurt to touch. Oddly enough, he thinks he might like the new shape. It makes him look like less of a pretty boy. He briefly considers thanking Arry, but he doesn’t want to encourage her.

He is also getting a cruel sort of enjoyment out of her guilt. Whether she realizes it or not, Arry has been kinder to him since she’d accidentally beaten jumped him in the alleyway. She still calls him stupid, but she doesn’t do it nearly as often. Lately, she has even tried to stop making sarcastic comments in reply to him. Gendry thinks he should feel bad that she’s apparently so guilt ridden, but he doesn’t; he doesn’t even feel  _ remotely _ bad. Arry is significantly more pleasant when she isn’t constantly belittling him.

Besides, he is only exploiting her guilt a  _ tiny  _ bit. It is barely enough to count. He could be doing so much worse. He could play up his injuries. He could try to get much more out of her than pleasantries. He could really go over the top.

Of course Arry, being fairly good at seeing through bullshit, would probably call him out on it. And then where would he be? Back to where they’d started from, with her giving him the silent treatment.

Gendry likes that she talks to him now. When she’s relaxed enough to drop her tough veneer, she’s actually sort of funny. He likes when she argues with Hot Pie. He can spend a good ten minutes laughing silently to himself before they notice he’s been watching them. Arry’s face turns red when she realizes what has happened. Gendry reallly likes making her face turn red.

Arry’s not only funny when she’s angry, though. She’s got a wry sense of humor, dark though it is. Sometimes she’ll say things at the most inappropriate times with a completely straight face and Gendry will almost choke trying to suppress his snorts of laughter.. He notices a prideful grin on Arry’s face when she makes him snort, and Gendry thinks that he really likes her cheek. 

He thinks that if she would give them a chance, Arry might like some of his friends. Occasionally Gendry tries to invite her out with them; he still hasn’t entirely given up on that venture. However, he is just as unsuccessful as he always is. She shoots him exasperated looks and reminds him that she has work.

“Surely not  _ every _ night?” he asks one day as he cracks open two bottles of beer and hands one over to her.

“There are a lot of bad men,” she answers, accepting it.

“There’s bad men everywhere,” he counters. “You can’t mean to go after all of them, can you?”

“No, not all of them,” she concedes. “Just enough of them.”

“And when will you have enough?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she takes a sip of her beer and blinks.

He sighs, frustrated with her. 

“Why do you keep inviting me if you know I’m going to turn you down?” she asks suddenly.

“Because thinking of you lurking around alleyways at night attacking people gives me the willies,” he replies. “And also because I think you might enjoy it.”

“I’ve met your friends,” she says, darkly. “I wasn’t a fan.”

“No, you met Lem and Tom,” he corrects. “Those are the worst two. The rest aren’t so bad. Anguy and Harwin--”

“Harwin?” she interrupts.

“Yes? What about him?”

“I knew a man named Harwin when I lived up north in Winterfell,” she says. “He worked for my father.”

“Well, Harwin’s got a northern accent,” Gendry says with a shrug. “How common of a name is it up there?”

“Fairly common.”

She begins to chew on her lip. Gendry has noticed that she does this when she’s nervous, or when she’s thinking, or when she’s nervous  _ and _ thinking. He sort of wishes she wouldn’t, because her lips always look swollen and ugly after. But he isn’t going to tell her that; it’s not his business what she does with her lips anyway.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

Her eyes snap up to meet his as her attention is drawn back to the conversation.

“Nothing,” she says. “Maybe I’ll go with you and Hot Pie one night. Just to see.”

“Really?” he asks, genuinely surprised that she has agreed to go. “You’re going to come out and be normal for once?”

“Shut up,” she says. She punches him in the arm, rolls her eyes, and stomps off toward her mattress. 

Gendry rubs the sore spot on his arm and laughs. He’s done the impossible. He’s gotten Arry to agree to leave the house.

……………………………………………………………………..

A week later, she finally decides to accompany them to The Peach. As they leave the flat, she’s quieter than normal and when she does speak, she speaks in short, clipped sentences. Gendry spies her chewing on her lip. 

“Is this place very far?” she asks. 

“Not so far,” Gendry answers.

“Too bloody far to be walking,” Hot Pie complains. “Especially in this chill.”

“It’s not even that cold,” Arry says. She’s wearing a thin shirt and a light jacket. Gendry and Hot Pie are both wrapped up in heavy leather and flannel-lined denim respectively. Up north, they are used to a harsher cold. “And besides, the walk will do you good. You could use the exercise.”

Hot Pie begins to grumble. Gendry sneaks a peak towards Arry and sees that she’s stopped chewing on her lip. Perhaps listening to Hot Pie complain takes her mind off of her nerves.

The trek to The Peach really isn’t that far. Gendry makes sure to lead them down well-lit streets to make sure Arry has little chance to change her mind and dart off into an alley. Soon, they can see the warm, inviting lights and hear the muffled sounds of loud music coming from inside the pub. There’s a show tonight; it’s going to be crowded.

Arry shoots him a panicked look.

“I didn’t know there’d be so many people here,” she says testily. She doesn’t add “ _ What if someone notices me? _ ”, but he can read it in her eyes.

“You’ll be fine,” Gendry assures her. “ _ Better a big crowd to get lost in, right? _ ”

They’re greeted at the door by a shout from a large man at the door. His face is covered in scars, one of which runs right across his right eye and looks relatively fresh. Hot Pie lets out a whistle when he sees it.

“Cut yourself shaving this morning, Beric?”

“Oh this paper cut?” the large man points at his eye, laughing. “Some stupid cunt tried to stab my eye out with a broken bottle when I threw him out. Ruined my good looks.”

“Well, it was a good thing you were always ugly,” Hot Pie quips and Beric slaps him hard on the shoulder as he laughs. Then he notices Arry.

“Who’s this now?” he asks. “Never seen her before.”

“This is Arry,” Gendry explains. “She’s our flatmate.”

“The one you’re shagging?”

“We’re  _ not _ shagging,” Gendry and Arry say at the same time.

“I’m going to kill Tom,” Gendry mutters as Beric and Hot Pie share a laugh at their expense. Arry looks like she’s considering going back home.

“Come off it, Waters” Beric says. “You know I don’t listen to a thing he says.”

“Clearly,” Gendry replies glumly.

Beric lets them in free of charge and the three of them crowd their way toward the bar. Arry all-but clings to his side as Gendry orders drinks from Tansy. She’s scanning the crowd nervously, looking like she wants to bolt for the door.

“It’s alright,” he tells her so that Hot Pie can’t hear. “No one’s watching you.”

And they’re not. The band is finishing up their set and the crowd is dancing along to the beat. The patrons by the bar are too engrossed in their drinks and conversations to notice the three-newcomers in the bar. Gendry points this out to Arry and she relaxes a bit. She’s still on edge, but she doesn’t look quite as spooked.

Hot Pie decides to stay at the bar to chat with Tansy for a bit and Gendry pulls Arry into the crowd. They swim through a sea of people and finally come to a dingy table near the back of the bar. Anguy is seated there and he waves to Gendry, a bit of foam from his beer clinging to his mustache.

“If Harwin is coming out tonight, he’ll be here,” Gendry tells Arry. “This is Anguy. He’s loads better than Tom and Lem. You’ll like him.”

Anguy mercifully does not mention shagging when he finds out who Arry is. And as Gendry predicted, Arry does like Anguy. Or rather, she doesn’t hate him, which Gendry suspects might be the same thing with her. His easy-going nature puts Arry at ease and she’s able to carry on a conversation without glancing around the room like a cornered animal.

Harwin shows up twenty minutes later. Arry doesn’t notice him at first, but he recognizes her immediately.

“Arya Stark!” he cries out.

Arry shoots a panicked look in the direction of his voice, ready to flee if she needs to. But she sees Harwin and a genuine smile breaks across her face. She leaps out of her seat and crushes him in a bear hug. Gendry has never seen her look so happy or be so affectionate. Anguy shoots Gendry a questioning look, but Gendry ignores him.

“I thought you were dead,” Harwin says incredulously. 

“I’m meant to be,” Arry says. “I found Gendry and Hot Pie, though, and I’ve been staying with them.”

Harwin shoots Gendry a look.

“You’ve had her this whole time and you didn’t tell me?” he asks.

“How was I supposed to know you knew her?” Gendry asks defensively. “Besides, it was her secret to tell, not mine.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Arry says, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m here now. How is Winterfell? Is my mother alright?”

“I wouldn’t know, honestly,” Harwin answers sheepishly. “Your father sent me here on some business before he… Before he died.”

Arry nodded solemnly. Her father was still a sensitive subject, but she wasn’t going to break down in the middle of The Peach.

“I took care of that business and haven’t been back,” Harwin continues. “I thought with him gone… There wasn’t going to be much of a place for me back home.”

“That’s stupid,” Arry says. “You could work for my brother. Robb.”

“Robb has his own men,” Harwin replies. “And besides. I’ve found a place for myself here.”

By this time, the next band has started playing. Gendry slinks off toward the crowd as Arry and Harwin talk. They don’t notice. He’s happy she’s found someone from her home, but he is having trouble following their conversation. It obviously isn’t meant for him, so he decides to take his leave.

He listens to the band for a bit. Normally he enjoys coming to shows like this, but he can’t seem to get into the music tonight. He feels awkward standing there while everyone else around him is jumping and pumping their fists. So he quickly makes his way toward the bar to order another beer. Hot Pie is still seated at a stool and Gendry takes the open spot next to him.

“Where’s Arry?” Hot Pie asks. “Did she end up running out? She looked like she didn’t want to be here when we came in.”

“She’s in the back talking to Harwin,” Gendry says. “Turns out she knew him from back when she lived up north. He worked for her father at their estate or something like that.”

“Huh,” Hot Pie says. “Small world.”

Gendry doesn’t say anything. They sit in silence for a while, sipping on beer as they let the sounds from the club wash over them.

“Why aren’t you out there in the pit?” Hot Pie asks after a minute or two. “That’s normally where you are, innit?”

“I don’t know,” Gendry shrugs. “Just not in the mood, I suppose.”

“Well you might not want to hang around here,” Hot Pie says. “Shift’s about to change. Bella’ll be here any minute.”

Gendry makes a sound of disgust. Something about Bella has always rubbed him the wrong way and he is not in the mood to deal with her. “Thanks, mate. I’ll be off."

He doesn’t know where to go, though. He doesn’t want to bother Arry and Harwin while they catch up, but he certainly doesn’t want to be out on the floor next to the stage either. He decides maybe he should step outside for a moment just to get out of everyone’s way.

He leans against the building and lights up a cigarette. He likes the way the music sounds from outside. It’s muffled and he can feel the vibrations of the bass through the bricks. He takes a long drag off of his cigarette and lets loose a stream of smoke into the air.

“So you can escape the crowd, but I can’t?” a voice asks.

Gendry turns to see Arry standing next to him, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips.

“Wasn’t feeling the music tonight,” he says. “And I didn’t want to bother you and Harwin.”

“You could have kept Anguy company,” she says. “He seemed pretty lost until Lem showed up.”

“I’m assuming that’s why you’re out here, then?” he asks.

“I really,  _ really _ don’t like him,” she confirms.

“So you just left Harwin there?”

“No,” she says. “We’d pretty much finished talking. There wasn’t much more he could tell me about home. And he didn’t seem much interested in going back up north.”

“Are you?” Gendry asks. Her answer feels suddenly very important.

“Of course,” she answers. Gendry feels… disappointed. He doesn’t know why. He always understood that her living arrangement wasn’t going to be permanent. But things are just starting to feel normal at the flat, like she’d always been there. He’s going to miss having her around. He frowns before he can stop himself and he’s very thankful the darkness hides it.

“But not yet,” she continues. “I’ve still got some business here.”

“Your job?” he asks.

She makes a sound of affirmation and Gendry feels his disappointment ebb away for now. He’ll have time to mentally prepare himself for her departure. Arry bums a cigarette off of him and they smoke together in silence before she speaks again.

“I think,” she says. “I think coming out tonight was a good thing. Even if Harwin wasn’t there. It was nice to not be working.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” Gendry says. “All work and no play makes Arry a dull boy. Girl.”

“Shut up,” she says. But she doesn’t punch him and Gendry thinks she might be smiling. “You’re so stupid.”

“So you keep telling me.”

The band finishes the song they were on and starts up a new one. This one’s faster and louder and even through the bricks, Gendry feels the energy of it.

“You know,” he says, tossing his cigarette butt aside. “I think the music might finally be getting to me. Have you ever been in the pit?”

“The what?” she asks and Gendry laughs.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s not many girls in it, but you’re a psychopath so I think you might might enjoy it.”

“I’m not a psychopath,” she protests, but she tosses her cigarette aside and follows him back into The Peach.   
  
Gendry is sore and cold on the walk home that night. Hot Pie is ranting about how they’re both insane for staying in the pit as long as they did. But the darkness doesn’t do much to hide Arry’s smile as she thanks him for inviting her out with them and Gendry finds that he doesn’t feel so miserable after all.


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter best read while listening to "The Guns of Brixton" by: The Clash

Arry starts to accompany the boys out more and more. There are still nights when she declines in order to go to “work,” but she’s come a long way from the closed-off girl she used to be. She makes friends with most of Gendry’s friends. Harwin isn’t the only one that she knows; little Ned Dayne knew her brother Jon when they were children. She likes to sit at the dirty table at the back of The Peach and reminisce with him about her family.

Truth be told, Gendry doesn’t really like when Ned talks to Arry. Gendry has never really cared for him; he’s always seemed a bit of a priss. He’d assumed Arry would think so too, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. So Gendry doesn’t say anything while they talk. He drinks his beer silently and waits for someone else to change the subject of the conversation.

But the talks seem to do Arry some good. Although Gendry doesn’t like that she spends so much time with Ned, he can’t deny that it puts her in a better mood on the whole. Her barbed tongue has dulled and she has a little more patience for other people. She still calls Gendry names from time to time, but it’s almost as if there’s a fondness behind the insults. 

That’s what keeps him from being too annoyed with her for spending too much time with Ned. She seems to have grown much more friendly towards Gendry. When they’re at a show, she moshes in the pit with him. She keeps all the barmaids away when he’s trying to enjoy his drink and watch the football game. And when they’re in the flat, she spends her time in his room, drinking beer, smoking pot, and rifling through his record collection.

He is surprised at how much Arry knows about the type of music Gendry listens to. He assumes  that the well-to-do daughter of a politician wouldn’t have listen to what the urban working class liked. She gets huffy when he tells her this until she realizes he it isn’t teasing her. She grins smugly, satisfied with herself and Gendry can’t help but chuckle.

Arry chooses what records to play when they are together and Gendry doesn’t fight her on it. When she’d first started coming into his room, the music she chose was loud, fast, and furious; remnants from Gendry’s teenage years when he was angry with the world. Arry had been a lot like he had been back then, but she has mellowed out a bit and so has the music she chooses.

Arry is lounging on the floor of his bedroom. She is on her stomach and kicks her bare feet absentmindedly behind her as she flips through a copy of Melody Maker. Gendry is sitting at the foot of his bed lighting up a spliff for them to share. His little turntable is playing something slow and bass-heavy, a song a few years too old to still be popular, but Gendry doesn’t mind.

He takes a drag, holding the smoke in his lungs, enjoying its sweet burn. He exhales a large cloud of smoke and leans over to hand the spliff to Arry who pushes herself up to meet him. Her fingers brush against his as she takes it from him and he thinks again about how delicate they look. But he reminds himself that they are perfectly capable of both breaking and re-setting a grown man’s nose. He shakes the thought away as Arry inhales.

“This is shit,” she says, blowing smoke at his face..

“Give it time,” he replies, trying to disperse the smoke. “Takes a minute or two to kick in, but when it does…”

She eyes him skeptically before handing the spliff back to him. She flips through the last few pages of her magazine before tossing it aside, bored. She rolls over onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. Gendry stretches out on his stomach to face her, his arms hanging off the side of the bed. He takes another puff and exhales in Arry’s direction.

“Your hair is growing out,” he says. He doesn’t know why he says it, but he does.

Arry furrows her brow and runs a hand over her head, as if she doesn’t believe him.

“It is,” she agrees. She reaches up and grabs the spliff from him. Their fingers brush together again and Gendry feels a slight tingle. He thinks the drug might be starting to kick in.

“It looks nice,” he says. “Or--better. Better than it did.”

She shoots him an annoyed look. Gendry refuses to let her sit on her high horse about it, though.

“It looked like you cut it in the dark,” he says. “Drunk.”

“I did,” she says. “I mean, I wasn’t drunk. I cut it in the dark. Would have taken my time, but I was in a rush.”

“The Lannisters?” he asks.

She hums in agreement.

They haven’t  talked about their mutual Lannister problem in a long while. Gendry is so used to  the threat of discovery that he’s learned to ignore it. Although his friends can be a little trying at time, Gendry trusts them with his secret, just like he trusted Arry with it. Arry isn’t entirely sold on all of Gendry’s friends, however. But she trusts Gendry and she trusts his trust in them.

“I like it better this way,” she continues. “Doesn’t get in my eyes.”

“It will if it keeps growing,” he says.

“I’ll have to cut it again, I suppose.”

“I can help you do it,” he offers. “Unless you like having random bald patches.”

“I was in a  _ hurry _ ,” she reiterates. She looks like she wants to call him a name and Gendry wants to laugh at her, but he doesn’t. He knows it will be hard to stop once he starts, so he settles for a grin instead. She pushes herself up on her elbows to snatch the spliff out of his hand and narrows her eyes at him as she inhales. He rolls out of the way before she can blow smoke in his face.

“You’re so stupid,” she sighs, but there isn’t any malice in her voice. “Stupid, bull-headed boy.”

They smoke in silence for a while until the song finishes and the record ends. Neither gets up to change it. Gendry glances down at Arry. Her eyes, which are normally a steely grey, are almost entirely black. Gendry thinks his blue eyes might look similar. The world is starting to slow down a little and the drugs are definitely working. Arry looks relaxed and there’s a smile starting to form on her lips. Gendry thinks for a second that he might like to kiss her.

It takes him a second to realize what’s just passed through his mind. He rolls over onto his back so Arry doesn’t see the look of panic that flashes through his eyes. Shit. Shit, shit shit.

“I take back what I said before,” Arry says. Her voice is a lazy drawl. “This isn’t shit. It’s pretty good.”  
  
Gendry doesn’t answer.


	9. IX

Arry isn’t a nice girl; she’s blunt, rude, and doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. She’s not particularly pretty either. She is too skinny, too short, and wears ill-fitting clothes. Her hair is a wild rat’s nest on the best of days. She is mean, quick to anger, and can hold a grudge for longer than anyone Gendry knows. And yet…

Things are starting to make sense. He realizes why he gets annoyed when she talks to Ned. He realizes why he goes out of his way to try to get her to talk with him. He realizes why he lets her call him names. He’s starting to develop feelings for her.

That  _ cannot _ happen. 

Aside from the fact that it would completely ruin the dynamics of the flat he shares with her and Hot Pie, Arry is the daughter of a politician and Gendry grew up in a boy’s home and is barely making ends meet. Although Arry’s family is dealing with a lot of shit, she at least has a home to go back to when this thing with the Lannisters blows over. The only things Gendry has to offer can fit in a few boxes. He likes being with her, but they would never work out as anything more than friends and flatmates. Gendry does his best to accept this and handle it the only way he knows how.

He starts staying late at the factory where he works. He comes home too bone-tired and dirty to want to go out to The Peach with Arry and Hot Pie. When they confront him, he tells them he’s trying to earn a little more money for the holiday season. It’s a shitty excuse, but it gets them off of his back for a while.

On days when his boss won’t let him stay late, he finds other excuses: Tansy needs him to go fix something in the basement of The Peach and it’s probably going to take all night; Tom wants to show him a new guitar riff he needs to learn for the next show; he’s not feeling very well and needs to stay home. Sometimes his excuses are real, but most of the time, he spends his afternoons and nights walking around the nearby park until he thinks Arry and Hot Pie might be gone. He’s ashamed of himself that he can’t just man up and get over the situation. He doesn’t like being reduced to skulking around the neighborhood and lying.

He tries to ignore his feelings and go about life as normal exactly once. Hot Pie is in the kitchen whipping up one of his famous gravy surprises and he and Arry are keeping him company. Gendry is sitting in a dining chair drinking and Arry is sitting on the counter next to him. Things are going well and Gendry doesn’t even thinking about the way he’s feeling for a good twenty minutes. But then Arry stops and blows her fringe out of her eyes.

“Did you mean it when you said you’d help me cut my hair?” she asks him. “D’you think you can get the ends straight?”

Gendry doesn’t think this is a good idea. His mind races as he tries to think of ways to get out of helping her, but he can’t think of a legitimate excuse. He reluctantly agrees and Arry goes off to ready the bathroom.

“You don’t look so good,” Hot Pie says, glancing over at him. “Feeling ill?”

“I don’t know,” Gendry answers. “Maybe?”

“Queasy?” his friend asks. “I can put some ginger in this gravy. Calm your stomach right up.”

“I don’t think ginger goes in gravy, Hot Pie,” Gendry says.

“That’s why I cook and you don’t.”

Arry calls out that she’s ready and Gendry takes a long swig of beer to steel himself.

She’s changed into a sleeveless shirt so she won’t get hair clippings in her clothes. She’s also stolen Gendry’s electric clippers and is at work  trimming the edges around her face. Gendry looks everywhere but at her bare shoulders.

“Can you get the back for me?” she asks, looking at him in the mirror. “Just trim it up. Make it straight.”

He takes the clippers and stands behind her. The nape of her neck, though in need of a trim, is white and slender and long and Gendry hates that he likes it so much. He licks his lips nervously and hopes he can keep a steady hand while he trims. He doesn’t.

Arry cries out in shock and pushes him away as she clutches at a spot on the back of her neck.

“Pay attention to what you’re doing, stupid!” she gripes. “You nicked me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s all straight now.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, trying to twist around to see what it looks like.

“I’m sure,” he lies. “That’s as straight as I can get it anyway.” 

Arry is frowns at her reflection in the mirror.

“I guess it will do,” she says. 

Before she can turn to thank him, Gendry steps out of the bathroom. He can’t do this. He can’t even give her a stupid haircut without making things weird. Acting normal isn’t going to work at all. He thinks he might have to double-up on his avoidance tactics until this thing blows over.

He steps back out into the kitchen.

“I’m going to have a lie-down,” he says. “I think I might be feeling a bit queasy after all.”

“Right,” Hot Pie nods. “I’m putting ginger in this gravy. Have a plate before you go to bed.”

“Yes mum,” Gendry answers, rolling his eyes. Hot Pie looks smug.

On the way back to his room, Gendry nearly bumps into Arry as she steps out of the bathroom. He does an awkward shuffle as he tries to step around her. She furrows her brows at him and mutters “weirdo.”

He’ll let her think he’s weird. Maybe if she starts belittling him again he’ll go right back to being annoyed with her again and everything will be okay.


	10. X

The more he tries not to think about Arry, the more he does. Gendry spends most of his days reminding himself why acting on his feelings would be a bad idea. Upper class girls like her don’t go out with poor boys like him. If the papers were to ever find out, there would be a huge scandal and Gendry would be thrust into the spotlight in a way he doesn’t want to be. And she has two older brothers who probably took boxing lessons growing up.

Gendry tries to remind himself that Arry isn’t the type of person he wants to be with anyway. She can be an unholy terror when she wants to be. It physically pains her to be nice to him. She probably thinks he actually is stupid. She  _ actually _ described herself as a “mercenary” for fuck’s sake. And on the shallow end of things, Gendry usually prefers the girls he’s with to be a lot more feminine.

But that line of thinking doesn’t work. Gendry likes that Arry doesn’t pretend to be pleasant when she’s unhappy like other girls do. He likes that she isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind and doesn’t back down against people three times her size. He likes that she can handle herself when things get rough. Arry doesn’t require delicacy; she seems to actively try to avoid it. It’s refreshing not to have to pretend to be better than he is when he’s with her. And he even sort of likes that’s she’s not conventionally attractive. She’s striking in her own way. He doesn’t know many girls that aren’t afraid to look different. But even so, all that doesn’t change the fact that he cannot be with her.

He tries once to work out his frustrations alone in his room, but he feels dirty and can’t look her in the eye the next day, so he quickly puts a stop to that. He’s already working too much at Mott’s factory as it is and they won’t give him any more hours. He can only spend so much time at The Peach without Arry tagging along and his excuses to get out of being around her are starting to wear thin. Gendry has no escape.

He starts to do what he did when he was a teenager. He withdraws into himself. He’s more sullen now and he starts to get on his  _ own _ nerves. He knows he’s being a child about it, but he is at a loss for what to do. He’s never been in this situation before. His past flings have all been with lower class girls. Girls like him. And that’s all they’ve been: flings. He can’t do that with Arry. But he can’t very well have a relationship with her either.

They’re all three at The Peach. Gendry had allowed himself to be coaxed out because his favorite local band was playing. Arry of all people had done the coaxing. Arry, the girl who once had to be coaxed out herself. The irony is not lost on him.

But even the band doesn’t do much to lift his spirits. He is slouched over at the bar drinking his beer a little faster than he should. Hot Pie, sensing his dourness, has abandoned him in favor of playing (and losing) a few rounds of darts with Anguy. Arry got fed up with his sullenness and left him to go talk to Ned. This does nothing to help his mood. He’s watching them with a frown and doesn’t even bother trying to hide it. She catches his eye every so often and shoots him a dark look and he shoots one right back at her. 

“Cheer up, love,” Tansy says, walking over to where he’s sitting. She hands him another beer before he’s finished the one he’s drinking. “Brooding doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not brooding,” he says, petulantly.

“You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to Tansy,” she says, placing her hands on her ample hips. “You’re brooding and you’re brooding over that girl over there.”

“I’m not,” he says, finishing his beer and grabbing for the new one.

“You are,” she counters. “And you’re not doing a very good job of hiding it. Did you two have a row? She looks angry with you.”

Gendry wants to tell her to shut it, but you don’t talk like that to the proprietress of The Peach. Not if you want to stay on her and Beric’s good sides, anyway.

“I’m surprised,” Tansy continues. “I don’t normally see you out with that sort of girl. Especially not with Bella pining for you and all.”

Gendry rolls his eyes and groans.

“Bella’s a sweet girl and one of my best barmaids,” she chides him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her that you think she’s not good enough.”

“It’s not that,” he says. Bella was perfectly fine. But something about her unsettled him. Since he couldn’t put words to the feeling, he was silent.

“Yeah, I understand,” Tansy says. “You’re just mooney over that one there.”

And he is. He really, really is.

“I’ve been in loads of arguments with loads of men,” she continues. “Things’ll sort out. Or they won’t. And in that case, there are plenty of other girls that’ll have you if she won’t.”

Gendry hums noncommittally into his beer. Tansy is right. There are plenty of other girls that will have him. He thinks that might be the only way to force Arry out of his system. He needs a distraction. Fortunately, The Peach is full of distractions.

He sets his sights on Lanna. She is one of Tansy’s newer girls. She’s the complete opposite of Arry; she is tall and curvy and very, very eager to please. Here hair is light, her eyes are dark and she likes to laugh. Gendry thinks she might like to laugh a little too much, but he supposes he can’t fault her for that. She seems nice enough, anyway.

Lanna, responds fairly well to his advances. Apparently, she hasn’t talked with Bella much and hasn’t been warned about him. She bats her eyelashes, flirts, and laughs at anything he says, joke or not. Truthfully, he finds it annoying, but she keeps supplying him with drinks, so he puts up with it. He monopolizes a great deal of her time before she is called away to help serve another patron.

“You going to go to bed with her?” 

Arry is suddenly at side, giving him an indecipherable look.

“You were chatting her up real nice,” she continues. “Are you going to go to bed with her?”

“Maybe,” he answers, already on the defensive. “What’s it to you?”

“It’s nothing to me,” she says, shortly. “I just didn’t think you liked the girls here.”

“You don’t know what I like,” he grumbles.

“ _ Clearly _ I don’t,” she answers with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks angry with him.

“It’s none of your business anyway,” he says. “Who I go to bed with.”

“I  _ know _ that,” Arry huffs. “I just thought… You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

He knows he has, but he’s too drunk to care at this point. He knows it isn’t Arry’s fault that he’s angry. It’s his whole shitty situation. But he isn’t really articulate enough to express that to her or himself. And so he makes a very poor decision.

“Yes, well, you’ve been a dick to me before,” he says. “Just returning the favor.”

He can see hurt flash across her face a split second before it’s replaced with rage. She hits him hard enough to knock him off of his stool.

“You’re a bastard,” she says. Her entire face is red. “A stupid, stupid, bastard.”

She leaves him there on the floor as a crowd starts to amass to check out the commotion. Gendry wants to sink into the ground and disappear. When he saw the look on Arry’s face, he felt like the biggest horse's ass on the face of the planet.  
  
He ends up going home alone that night, slinking into the flat shamefully at 3am. There are snores coming from Hot Pie’s room and nothing from Arry’s corner in the sitting room. He debates waking her up and trying to apologize, but ultimately decides against it. Instead, he crawls into his bed and sleeps for fourteen straight hours.


	11. XI

Arry avoids him now. She stops coming to his room and won’t talk to him unless she has to. They stop spending time together and they drift apart in the few weeks following the incident at The Peach. Gendry knows that this was the goal, but it feels awful. He only meant to distance himself emotionally and now she’s furious with him and blocking him out completely. 

Most afternoons, Gendry sits in his room trying not to mope and failing spectacularly at it. He stops going out and even tells Tom and Lem he needs a short hiatus from the band. They aren’t happy about it, of course, but Gendry isn’t particularly concerned with them. It gets so bad that Hot Pie confronts him about it one day, but nothing comes of it.

Arry reverts back to her old ways. Gendry hears her going off to “work” at odd hours of the night much more often tan she used to. Occasionally she’ll still go out to The Peach, but those nights are few and far between. She will still talk to Hot Pie, but aside from that, she stays out of the flat as often as she can.

Gendry has fucked up. He’s fucked up very badly. He never wanted to alienate her, but he has and he doesn’t suppose there’s any coming back from that. He supposes,  however, that it might be the best choice in the long run. He isn’t harboring some sort of hope that he might be able to be with her. Yes, he thinks, it’s probably much better this way. But that doesn’t make things any easier.

Winter is in full swing now. The streets are covered with piles of muddy snow that refuses to melt. Temperatures are in the negatives and even with all the shops and houses decorating with brightly colored lanterns for the Winter Feast of the Crone, it is not very pleasant outside. Most people are choosing to stay in their houses, but Gendry goes to the streets and he walks. He likes that he can be in a place that is just as miserable as he feels on the inside.

It isn’t very late, but the sun is going down and he’s headed to the park. There aren’t many people there on winter evenings and the ones that are seem more interested in their own comings and goings. If anyone there wanted to mug him, he would be able to take care of himself. And if he couldn’t, well, he doesn’t have any money on him anyway. All he has is a half-empty box of cigarettes and a fresh matchbook.

He walks through the gates of the park and doesn’t stop until he’s well within the grounds. He’s standing next to the waterfront, the iced over lake on one side, a bunch of benches and shrubbery on the other. He takes a deep breath of the cold night air and decides to light up a cigarette. The flame feels nice on his cold hands, but it only lasts a second before he shakes the match out and tosses it aside. He stands still for a second, enjoying his first puff of nicotine when he hears a scuffling in the greenery across the way.. 

“Bit late for squirrels,” he says to no one in particular, cigarette dangling from his lips.

He hears a bit more of the scuffle, but it’s hard to see what’s going on in the dark. There are street lights periodically lighting paths through the park, but the area the noise is coming from isn’t that well lit. He supposes it’s just some animals fighting and decides to walk on. The cold is starting to set in and it’s really only bearable if he’s moving. He takes a few steps forward but stops when he hears a distinctly human sounding groan.

The last time he chased one of those sounds, he’d ended up worse for it. He weighs his options as he decides whether or not he wants to investigate. It might be some drunks fighting and he doesn’t want to get involved in that. There’s a chance it could also be Arry and he  _ really _ doesn’t want to confront her. He has just about made up his mind to ignore it when a man comes bolting out of the bushes and barrels straight into him. Gendry is knocked to his feet and the man scrambles to get up and run away.

“Prick!” Gendry calls out after him. He pushes himself up off of the ground and notices something glinting on the sleeve of his jacket. He can’t see very well by the moonlight alone, so he jogs toward a streetlight and he feels his stomach sink. He is pretty sure his jacket has just been smeared with blood.

“Fuck,” he swears, because he doesn’t know if the blood belongs to the man who’d collided with him or someone else.

Just then, he hears the groan again. It’s coming from the bushes the man has just run out of. Gendry storns over, pushing aside branches and shrubs until he finds the source of the noise and he swears he feels his heart stop.

“ _ Arry! _ ”

She looks half-way to dead. She’s on the ground, her leg sticking out at a very wrong angle with  blood trickling down from somewhere above her hairline. There is a dark, ugly looking stain blossoming on her her clothes near her stomach and Gendry can see a nasty wound. She looks even paler than she normally does and her grey eyes are beginning to glaze over.

“Please be alive, please be alive,” he says, dropping down to his knees to help her. 

“Gendry?” she mutters. Her voice is labored and faint. “‘Zat you?”

“Don’t talk,” he says, grabbing one of her hands. It is freezing. He places it to the wound on her stomach and presses it down. “Keep your hand there. Can you do that?”

He tentatively lets her hand go, only to see that she lets it flop back down to her side. 

“Shit,” he says. And then because he doesn’t know what to say again: “Shit.”

Arry tries to move, but groans again at the pain.

“Don’t move,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

He takes off his jacket and wraps her in it, ignoring the cold that bites through his frayed sweater. Next, he places her hand back on her stomach and keeps his own hand pressed down over it. Gingerly, he lifts her up, trying to cause her as little discomfort as possible. She looks even worse up close. Her hair is sticky and matted together from a cut on her scalp and her lips are beginning to take on a bluish tinge. She’s not in any shape to move on her own; he’s going to have to carry her.

“We’re not far from home,” he says, half to reassure her and half to reassure himself. “You can make it. If you die on the way there, I’ll kill you.”

He hears a sound that might have been a laugh and then hears a gurgling sound in her throat. He decides to keep his mouth shut and bring her home as quickly as he can.

She’s shaking by the time they make it to the flat. He kicks the door open and scares the hell out of Hot Pie who is messing about in the kitchen.

“Turn the radiator up,” he orders. “She’s freezing.”

“Seven hells!” Hot Pie cries. “What happened to Arry?”

“Just do it!” He says.

Gendry lays her down on the couch as Hot Pie follows his commands. He carefully unwraps her from his jacket, all the while trying to keep pressure on the cut on her stomach. Her clothes underneath are wet from blood and snow and they’re going to have to come off. He doesn’t even think before stripping her down to her underwear and ripping the sheets hung up around her mattress from their lines. He wraps her in as many layers as he can and tries to rub at her arms and hands to keep them warm. The whole time, he speaks to her urgently under his breath, trying to get her to stay conscious.

“I’ll call a doctor,” Hot Pie says.

“No!” Gendry cries.

“But she’s bleeding out!” Hot Pie protests. “She’ll die.”

“No doctors,” he says. A doctor was too risky. Someone could recognize her and then she’d be turned over to the Lannisters. He’d be damned if he was going to save her life, only to have her die at their hands. 

Hot Pie crosses his arms over his chest and looks worried. He wants to argue with Gendry, but he is in a panic and can’t fight. But then his face lights up.

“Beric!” he says. “Beric’s got a friend who patches him up for cheap when things at The Peach get rough. Think he mostly does animals, but I know he can fix up people.”

“Call Beric,” Gendry instructs him. “Get him to bring the guy over.”

Hot Pie doesn’t wait to be told twice. He’s having a frantic conversation on the phone while Gendry prays silently to whatever god will listen to keep Arry alive.

Beric arrives within the hour with a thin man he introduces as Thoros. Thoros doesn’t look like he’s going to be much help considering he looks like a burnt-out relic from the sixties, but Beric swears by him. He quickly takes charge with Arry, barking orders at the three of them to stay out of the way unless he asks them for help. He takes out a small kit from the bag he brought and sets to work cleaning and stitching up Arry’s wounds.

It takes hours or minutes; Gendry isn’t sure. He sits on the edge of Arry’s mattress and watches as Thoros works. He gets Arry in a stable condition cleans her up as best as he can. Then, he wraps her back in the blankets and stands up.

“I think she’ll live,” he tells Gendry. “She don’t look like it, but she will. She’ll sleep a long while and then wake up with a powerful pain in her gut. Make sure she drinks something warm when she wakes, but don’t let her over-do it. And don’t let her try to move around or she’ll pop her stitches.”

“What... Do we owe you anything?” Gendry asks dumbly.

“Don’t bother,” he says. “I don’t charge Beric’s friends. But if you want to buy me some drinks at The Peach one day, I won’t argue.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I will.”

When they leave, Hot Pie puts on a kettle for tea and Gendry sinks down on the couch near her feet, exhausted.

“The fuck happened?” Hot Pie asks. “Why wouldn’t you let me call a doctor?”  
  
Gendry doesn’t want to tell him, but it doesn’t look like he has a choice. He doesn’t exactly know where to begin or what question to answer first. So  he decides to start at the beginning.


	12. XII

Arry is angry.

Actually, that is an understatement; Arry is  _ furious _ .

“I can’t believe you told Hot Pie,” she hisses. She needs to calm down or risk splitting a stitch, but the last time Gendry told her that, she got even angrier. “You said you wouldn’t tell  _ anyone _ .”

“What was I supposed to tell him?” Gendry asks calmly. Normally he would argue with her, but he can’t find it in himself to get riled up. He’s just so very glad that she’s alive.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Literally anything else?”

She’s been moved from the couch back to her mattress. They don’t re-hang her curtain of sheets as the boys are convinced that she might still need the extra warmth. Hot Pie refreshes her tea every few hours and Gendry has been tasked with making sure she stays in bed. Arry  _ hates _ it.

Gendry actually doesn’t mind his task so much. Watching over her is a full time job and he doesn’t have time to worry about making things awkward. And they’re talking again, even if all she’s doing is swearing at him for treating her like an invalid. He’s missed her and he’s almost happy to take the abuse.

“Does this mean we have to start calling you Arya?” Hot Pie calls cheerfully from the kitchen. “Or Miss Stark? If we do, I’m going to muck it up, I just know I am.”

“I’m going to hit you,” Arry says. “I am going to hit you so hard.”

“You aren’t, either,” Hot Pie replies. “You’re to stay in bed. Can’t hit me from all the way over there.”

She starts to sit up, but Gendry gently pushes her back to her mattress.

“Lay  _ down _ ,” he says firmly.

Arry shoots him a look that could kill. But he knows she’s unable to back that look up; she wouldn’t be able to do anything without hurting herself.

“I hate this,” Arry says. 

“Well, if you weren’t running around murdering people at night, you wouldn’t be in this mess, would you?” Hot Pie says. He has taken the news of Arry’s “job” extremely well, all things considered. He got a bit hysterical when Gendry first told him, but he’s calmed down considerably since then. “Seven Hells, Arry, there  _ are _ better ways of making a living, you know.”

By now, he’s finished making a fresh pot of tea and he brings the kettle and two cups over on a tray. He sets them down by where Gendry is sitting, careful to avoid Arry’s mattress in case she decided to risk injury and lunge toward him.

“Now, I’ve got to go to work,” he says. “My completely harmless and legitimate way of making ends meet. You should consider getting a job like that, Arry.”

“Gendry, hand me a saucer,” she says. “I want to throw it at his stupid, fat head.”

“Try to get some rest,” Hot Pie says, in a motherly fashion. “See you later.”

As soon as Hot Pie leaves, Arry falls silent. Gendry pulls the tray closer to him and pours two cups of tea. He holds one out for her to take, but she doesn’t.

“Come on,” he says. “Before it gets cold.”

“Don’t want it,” she replies.

“You have to,” he says. “You need the liquid and the warmth will do you good.”

“I don’t  _ want _ it,” she says petulantly.

Gendry sighs and puts the cup back on the tray. He won’t make her drink it if she doesn’t want to. He sips his own tea in silent resignation.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Arry asks, frustrated. “I don’t need you here watching over me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Boss gave me some time off,” he answers after swallowing a mouthful of tea. “Since I put in all those extra hours last month. And I’m here to fetch anything you might need since you can’t get up.”

“You’re a glorified dog,” she grumbles.

“True,” he agrees. “But I’m a lot taller than a dog, so I can get those biscuits you like off the top shelf. And I’m much better company.”

“I’d rather a dog,” she says darkly. “They’re not complete bastards.”

Gendry sets his teacup back down on the tray. He was waiting for this to come up, although he’d hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon.

“Arry…” he begins.

“What?” she interrupts. “Are you going to tell me I need to be nice to you since you saved my life and all that? I’d rather you had left me in the snow.”

He feels a fire start to churn in his gut. He shouldn’t fight with her about this, not now, not while she’s hurt. This is a conversation best left for another day, but Gendry plows on, perhaps a little unwisely.

“Why would you  _ say _ that?” he asks. “Do you think I only saved you so I could use it as leverage against you?”

“I don’t know why you did,” she says. “But what else could it be? It isn’t as if you like having me around.”

"That’s not true,” he says earnestly. “I nearly had a heart attack when I found you, Arry. I thought you’d died right then and there and I felt like such an ass letting you die thinking I was angry at you.”

“Then why were you angry for so long?” she asks, her voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t do  _ anything _ to you and you started acting like such a  _ prick _ .”

“I…” he doesn’t know what to say. His reason sounds stupid in his head and he knows it would sound worse if he said it aloud.  _ I have feelings for you and I was angry because I couldn’t do anything about it _ . She would laugh in his face. 

“I didn’t mean to be a prick,” he finally says. “I guess… With Ned and Harwin, it just hit me that you’re a politician’s daughter. It didn’t seem really real until then. I panicked. It’s stupid.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “It’s really stupid. What does that even have to do with anything?”

“I thought things would change,” he says. “Since you were around people from home, who knew your family. Thought you wouldn’t want me and Hot Pie around anymore.”

“I don’t abandon my friends for stupid reasons like that,” Arry says. “I don’t care where you’re from. And if I didn’t like be around you two, I wouldn’t live here. I don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” Gendry says. “It’s stupid. I told you it was stupid.”

It isn’t his real reason, but it’s close enough for her to be satisfied and stop asking questions.

“You’d have to be stupid to think that things would change because of Harwin and  _ Ned Dayne _ ,” she says with a scoff. “He’s an annoying little priss.”

“Oh thank the gods,” he says with relief. Gendry could laugh. “He really is, I can’t stand him.”

“I can only talk to him for so long before I want to smack him,” she says. “Really?  _ Ned Dayne _ . Gods, you’re so stupid.”

Gendry feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He doesn’t know why. Nothing’s changed; he still can’t have her. But he feels lighter all the same.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. I was a dick.”

“You were,” she says. “But I’m still angry. Don’t do it again.”

She reaches out and gives him a weak punch in the arm, the best she can manage in her current state. 

“Just talk to me next time, you stubborn ass,” she says.

“I will. I promise,” he says. And he smiles because he thinks he might hear affection creeping back into her voice.  
  
“Good. Now give me my tea,” she says. “I think you’ve gone and let it grow cold.”


	13. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been a while since the last chapter. I had the flu. -_-

Beric brings Thoros over every now and again to check up on Arry’s progress. Each time, Thoros says things are getting a little bit better. Arry can get out of bed now and she has permission to move around the apartment. Gendry is free to go back to work, although he still worries about her alone in the flat. Her stitches are beginning to heal, but her leg is still recovering from the very bad break. She has been given permission to hobble the short distance from her mattress to the loo, but he doesn’t trust that she isn’t pushing herself even more.

After their talk, things have gone mostly back to normal between them. Arry still is angry, but she’s not ignoring him anymore. She seems to be getting back at him by sending him on increasingly frustrating errands since she can’t leave the house herself. She’s trying to get a rise out of him, but Gendry does it all graciously, thankful that she’s even speaking to him again. Eventually she gets bored of bossing him around and goes back to teasing Hot Pie.

Spring has almost arrived by the time she gets the okay to leave the flat for the first time.

“I want to go to The Peach,” she informs Gendry and Hot Pie one night. “And I want so much beer that I forget I’ve spent all this time cooped up in here.”

The Brotherhood and company are pleased to see her out again. Beric leaves his post at the door to clear the way for her to wobble over to her favorite table. Anguy makes a big show of pulling out her seat for her and Ned scrambles off to be the first one to buy her a drink. Arry is very embarrassed by the whole thing and Gendry and Hot Pie can’t stop laughing at her.

There isn’t a show that night, but the crew gets rowdy just the same. Tansy makes more money off of the jukebox in one night than she has the entire time it’s been installed. The boys are loud, obnoxious, and happy. They’ve adopted Arry as one of their own, it seems. Gendry is glad. 

The attention slowly slips from Arry as the night wears on. They go back to their normal routines, flirting with the barmaids, arguing with each other, and having impromptu drinking contests. Arry is sitting at the table, well past drunk. For the past hour she’s been nursing a beer in a boot-shaped glass that is bigger than her head. There’s an almost dopey looking smile on her face as she watches Tom and Lem argue with Anguy about darts. Gendry has been next to her all night, making sure she takes it easy with her leg and retrieving new drinks for her.

“I missed this,” Arry says, her words slurring together. “Bein’ out with everyone.”

“And to think,” Gendry says. “There was a time when you didn’t want any of this.”

“Shut up,” Arry laughs. She tries to punch him in the arm, but her aim is off. She misses completely and wobbles precariously in her chair.

“Woah there,” Gendry says as he catches her and keeps her upright. “Arya Stark, I do believe you’re piss drunk.”

“I do b’lieve you are correct,” she says. “Either that or the room’s just gotten spinny all on its own.”

“Definitely drunk,” he says.

“My mum’d be very disappointed in me,” she says. And then she giggles. 

She  _ giggles _ . Gendry has never heard her do that before. He didn’t think it was something she ever did. When she suppresses the laughter, she surprises him again by sighing happily and leaning against his arm. Her head is resting against his shoulder and she looks like it’s the most comfortable place in the world. Gendry almost decides to let her stay there.  _ Almost _ . But he won’t let himself go down that path.

“I think maybe it’s time to get you home,” he says quietly. 

Arry looks at her beer which is still half-full. She considers it for a few seconds, and then lets out a resigned sigh.

“Don’t think I can put away th’ rest of this, anyway,” she agrees. “Lemme go’n pay my tab.”

She stands up and pushes away from the table with too much force. She would have fallen again had Gendry not rushed up to steady her.

“Maybe we just head home and pay the tab later, yeah?” he suggests.

Arry doesn’t fight him on his and allows herself to be led toward the exit.

The walk home is… interesting. Things are already slower than normal what with Arry’s leg, but adding alcohol to the mix made things worse. Arry can’t go very fast and she stops every few minutes when she accidentally puts too much pressure on her leg. Gendry handles all of this with the patience of a saint, but Arry is getting frustrated.

“You know,” Gendry says slowly, as if he himself is a little unsure of what he’s about to offer. “We aren’t very far from home. And you’re not very heavy, even with that cast. I could just carry you the rest of the way.”

“No,” Arry protests. “I can do it. I can make it back.”

She takes another wobbly step forward, holding on to Gendry’s arm or support, a look of concentration on her face.

“This would be a lot easier if you hadn’t let me drink so much.”

Gendry rolls his eyes.

“This would be a lot easier if you stopped being so stubborn,” he retorts.

“You like that I’m stubborn,” Arry says matter-of-factly.

“Oh yes,” he says. “It’s all part of your charming personality.”

And Arry giggles again and it unnerves him. He likes the sound of it and that unnerves him more.

Despite Gendry’s protests, Arry tries again for twenty more minutes to make it home. Finally, Gendry’s patience wears thin. He steps in front of her and crouches down a bit.

“Hop on,” he says. “Unless you want me to roll you the rest of the way up to the flat.”

Arry grumbles and protests a bit, but Gendry is adamant. Finally, she gingerly wraps her arms around his neck and climbs on his back. Gendry makes good time getting back home. Arry weighs nothing compared to the equipment he’s used to lugging around the factory all day and he’s not even winded by the time he makes it back inside.

“See, was that so bad, was it?” he asks Arry.

But she doesn’t answer.

He turns his head as best he can with her still on his back and feels her soft, rhythmic breathing against this cheek. She’s fallen asleep. She’s warm against him and her breath tickles his skin. He feels a wave of affection rearing its head and he lets himself experience it, just for a moment, before quashing it back down.

He quietly makes his way toward her mattress and deposits her down as best he can without waking her up. She doesn’t even make a sound as he pulls her one shoe off and swings her legs over until they’re both on the mattress. He piles a few blankets on top of her and steps back.   
  
She looks even smaller than she is wrapped up the way she is. She’s peaceful too, and vulnerable. Gendry thinks back to when he found her bleeding out in the snow and can feel a pang in his chest. She shouldn’t be putting herself in situations like that. She doesn’t realize how breakable she really is. She’d been very lucky up until now and her luck wouldn’t last forever. Hopefully, he thinks as he turns to head toward his room, hopefully, she’ll realize this before it’s too late.


	14. XIV

It is springtime and Arry can walk on her leg without pain again. Whenever she sees a set of stairs, she makes a big show of walking up and down them, just to prove she can. Any time Gendry or Hot Pie need something from a shop, she’ll volunteer to go just to go outside and walk around. If she had been in a good mood when she was initially allowed to leave the apartment, she’s ecstatic now that she can go by herself.

Gendry isn’t nearly as thrilled. She hasn’t mentioned it and he won’t bring it up himself, but the question of whether she’s going to go back out at night for “work” again hangs in the air. He still hopes that she is going to give it up for good, but until he has any concrete evidence that that’s what she’s chosen to do, he’s constantly anxious about it. Arry’s noticed he’s upset about something, although he won’t tell her what it is. She calls him a sourpuss and tries not to let him spoil her mood.

Gendry is also in a foul mood because he’s gone and done it again. His feelings for her are coming back in full force, this time tinged with something else. Now that the weather is warming up, she’s taken to wearing lighter clothing. Her clothes are still ill-fitting and torn, but he can still see the outline of her body and flashes of white skin through the holes in her shirts. It’s driving him mad. He does better dealing with it this time, though, turning his frustrations inward toward himself instead of taking them out on her. He takes himself in his hand when he’s alone in his room at night, guilt and shame be damned. He feels like a teenager again and he hates it.

Arry, for her part, is largely oblivious to the situation and Gendry tries very hard to keep it that way. From what he can tell, Arry doesn’t seem to have any…  _ urges _ . At least, none that he’s aware of. She might be disgusted with him if she knew how he felt and what he was doing. And on a selfish level, he knows she wouldn’t spend nearly as much time with him anymore. And he  _ does _ like when she spends time with him. He’s resigned himself to the fact that he can’t have her, but he can at least dream.

He’s on the couch watching telly. Or rather, he’s trying to watch telly. The damn machine is a piece of junk and the picture keeps going in and out. He really needs to just bite the bullet and get a new one, but growing up poor has made him very frugal. Instead, he chooses to kick at the sides of it until the picture clears out. Arry is curled on the other end of the couch laughing at him.

“What?” he asks. “It works, doesn’t it?”

“For about ten minutes,” she says. “Then it goes all scrambly again. You should just replace it.”

“I will,” he says. “Eventually.”

And then he cries out victoriously as the picture comes back into view.

Arry rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Gendry is glad she lets him have his moment.

He makes it about five minutes in before the phone rings, which in turn, messes with the picture again. He swears as he gets up to start banging at the tv while Arry walks over to pick up the phone.

He overhears her conversation as he beats at the television. Her voice drops to a quiet murmur and her lips go thin. She is silent for a while, listening to the voice on the phone before she says “Okay.” Then she says something else incomprehensible (Gendry thinks it might be in a foreign language) and hangs up.

“Who was that?” he asks.

“No one,” she answers. She’s lost the playful smile she had before the phone rang. “Don’t worry about it.”

Gendry looks at her skeptically.

“When people say ‘don’t worry about it,’ it usually means there’s something that needs worrying over,” he says with a frown.

“It doesn’t concern you,” she says.

Gendry’s frown deepens. She talks to him about nearly everything. Except one subject.

“Is this about your ‘work’?” he asks, abandoning the television.

“I said don’t worry about it,” she says, damningly. “Get the telly working again, will you?”

“You seriously can’t be thinking of going back to that, can you?” he asks a little more forcefully than he means to. “For fuck’s sake, you almost died!”

“Everybody dies sometime,” she says quietly. 

Gendry feels like he’s been punched in the gut when she says that. The thought that she thinks so little of her life, that she thinks it would be okay to just die makes him feel awful.

“Do you really hate it here so much that you’re willing to risk dying?” he asks.

“It’s not that,” she tells him.

“Then what?” he asks.

She doesn’t answer.

“You can tell me, Arry,” he says. “You know you can.”

“My father,” she finally says. “I’m doing it for my father.”

Gendry is silenced. Arry doesn’t  like to talk about her father. He suspects whatever scars she has from his death haven’t yet healed over. He doesn’t know if they ever will.

“It’s not like I want to die,” she continues. “In fact, I would rather not. The people I work for… They’re teaching me things, opening up possibilities, giving me opportunities. It’s all so I can give my father the justice he deserves. And if I die trying… Well, at least I tried. It’s more than anyone else has done for him.”

“There have to be other ways,” Gendry says. “Ways that aren’t as dangerous.”

“Not with the Lannisters, there aren’t,” she says. “I don’t want to hide forever. Do you?”

Gendry’s never really thought about it before. To him, hiding is the same thing as blending in, and he’s blended in all of his life. He doesn’t have an answer for her. At least not one he thinks she’ll like. She seems to take his silence as agreement, however, and continues.

“It won’t be forever,” she says. “Just until the Lannisters are gone.”

_ And how long will that take? _ Gendry wants to ask. But he stays silent. He supposes it doesn’t matter to her anyway. Arry teases him for his stubbornness, but she’s just as obstinate as he is. Once she’s set her mind on something, she won’t quit until it’s finished. Nothing he can say to her will make her change her mind and he knows it.

“Just be careful,” he says resignedly. “For my sake if not yours.”

Arry lifts the corner of her mouth in a slight smile.

“Gendry Waters,” she says in a teasing tone. “It’s almost as if you care about me or something.”

He shoots her a dark look, his mouth set in a straight line. He doesn’t want her to make light of this. 

“I do,” he admits. “And Hot Pie too. And everyone at The Peach. You  _ do _ have people worrying about you, people who care. Even though you think we don’t count.”

She looks properly chastened.

“I’m sorry. But it’s something I’ve got to do.”

“I know,” he replies. “You bull-headed girl.”

She smiles again, sensing that she’s been forgiven for making light of things.

They’re quiet for a time, the television flickering in and out as they sit there. Finally, Gendry gets up to start fiddling with it again.

“Thank you,” Arry says quietly as his back is turned. “For worrying about me and caring.”

“Someone’s got to,” he answers.

………………………………………………  
  
Arry goes back to work within the week and Gendry is not happy about it. Everytime she leaves on her own, he gets antsy and roams around the apartment nervously. He thinks Hot Pie must have told her something because she starts checking in with him when she comes home, no matter how late it is. He’s thankful for it. Even if she knocks on his door at 3am, he sleeps easier the rest of the night knowing she’s safe a home.


	15. XV

Gendry comes home late one night after a show at The Peach stinking of smoke and sweat. All he wants is a shower. He would also like to go to bed, but he knows sleep won’t come easy; Arry’s out working.  He’ll be too full of nervous energy to drift off. But he can still have his shower at least.

He walks up to the bathroom and reaches to open the door but stops when he hears the shower running. All of the tension immediately seeps from his body. Hot Pie has just gone to his bedroom so the only person who could be in there is Arry, which means she’s gotten home safe. He isn’t even annoyed that she’s gotten to the shower before he has because she’s not out on the street putting herself in dagner. Gendry goes back to his room to wait for her to vacate the bathroom.

He waits.

And waits. 

And waits some more.

Gendry frowns because Arry isn’t one to luxuriate in the shower. She’s very utilitarian, taking five minutes at most. But she’s been in there for a good twenty minutes now , plus however long she’d been in there before Gendry came back to the flat. The hot water must be all gone by now and she can’t be comfortable. Terrible thoughts race through his head as he tries to figure out what could be taking her so long.

Eventually, he gives into his anxieties and walks back over to the bathroom He puts his ear up to the door and hears that the shower is still running and can barely make out a soft humming. He knocks nervously on the door and waits. The humming doesn’t stop and neither does the sound of running water.

“Arry?” he calls out.

The humming stops. It is quiet for a few seconds before Arry calls out in a strange voice: “Come in.”

Gendry’s not sure he wants to enter. She’s only showering; he doesn’t need to physically walk in their to see if she’s alright. He thinks about her body too much as it is, he doesn’t need to see any more of  her than he needs to. 

Sensing his hesitation, Arry calls out a little louder: “I said come in!”

He sighs and pushes open the door just a crack. He pokes his head in, keeping his eyes downcast.

“You’ve been in here a while,” he says, staring at a spot on the floor. “Are you alright?”

“‘M fine,” she says. “Jus’ fine.”

Her voice has the distinctive sound of drunkenness. Before he can stop himself, he shoots his eyes up for a quick glance and sees… Well, he sees a mess.

Arry is fully clothed, lying in the tub with the shower running over her. There are a number of empty bottles of beer strewn about the tile floor and the last one is dangling over the side of the tub, half full in Arry’s hand. The water swirling around the drain is faintly tinged with pink. Arry is smiling up at him with hair plastered down over her half-lidded eyes.

“Seven hells,” he swears, pushing the door open and rushing in. He kneels next to the tub and turns water off “What are you doing?”

“Showering,” she answers. “An’ drinking. An’ doing laundry.”

Gendry gives her a quick look-over to make sure she hasn’t been hurt, trying not to linger too long over the places her clothes are clinging to her body. She has a bit of bloodon her, but none of it appears to be hers.

“This water is freezing,” he fusses. “You’ll catch cold.”

“I like it,” she replies. “The cold. It never gets me sick.”

Gendry rolls his eyes and stands up. He kicks away some of the bottles on the floor and holds his hand out to her.

“Come on,” he says, feeling a bit like her mother. “Get out of there. You need to go put something dry on.”

“I killed a man today,” Arry tells him. 

Gendry doesn’t register what she’s said for a few seconds. He blinks at her and raises an eyebrow. She looks up at him, her face as neutral as she can get it while she is shit-faced, and takes a swig of her drink.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he finally says.

“Killed him,” she repeated. “Stabbed ‘im right in the neck. Had to. They told me to.”

“What?” Gendry is having trouble processing what Arry is telling him. He is hearing what she’s saying, but his mind won’t accept it.

“Said I was ready,” she continues. “Said they’d teach me if I could do this. And I did it.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, frantic. “You’re not making any sense.”

“You know,” she says impatiently. “My  _ job _ . Remember?”

“ _ Fuck _ , Arya,” he says, slipping up and using her real name. “I thought you were just jumping people for money or something. Not murdering people!”

“I was,” she says. “Before now. This is what the Faceless Men do.”

“ _ The Faceless Men _ ?” he cries. “Fuck, Arya. Fucking fuck.”

Gendry has heard of The Faceless Men. Everyone has, although most stories about them are probably more exaggeration than truth. They’re a secretive, brutal crime syndicate based out of a city overseas. He’d heard rumors of them setting up branch organizations all over Westeros, but he tended to not put much stock in rumors.Tales of some vague foreign threat moving into the city to commit gruesome murders were just instances of fear mongering from the older generations to try and convince the younger generations to stop staying out so late. 

But Gendry has no reason to believe that Arry would lie to him about this. Gendry knows she harbors hatred for the Lannisters and if anyone was going to help her carry out her own form of justice, it would be the Faceless Men. And if Arry is in contact with them, they had to be in King’s Landing

“‘S okay,” she says, trying calm him down. As if he’s the one being unreasonable. “I did good.”

“That’s not the  _ point _ ,” he says, growing more panicked by the second. “Arya, they’re dangerous people! I’ve heard about them, about what they do. And now they’ve got you killing people? What if they turn on you? What then?”

“They won’t turn on me,” she answers confidently. “I’ve been sworn in. They don’t turn on their own.”

“Well what if you get  _ caught? _ ” he hisses. “You won’t just go to prison. The Lannisters are looking for you, remember?”

“Won’t be caught,” she replies with a sneer. “Especially not by Lannisters.”

“ _ Arya _ \--” he starts, but she interrupts.

“I like when you do that,” she says, pushing herself up to a sitting position in the tub.

Gendry stops mid-rant, confused.

“What?”

“When you call me Arya,” she answers. “I like it.”

Gendry furrows his brow and tries to make sense of the situation as Arry stands up. Being inside of the tub makes her a bit taller, but she’s still several inches shorter than he is.

“You should do it more often,” she continues. “When it’s jus’ th’ two of us.”

“Er…” Gendry says eloquently.

They don’t say anything for a while. Gendry stands there dumbly and Arry starts to shiver.

“Did you mean it?” she asks quietly. She suddenly sounds much more sober than she is.

“Did I mean what?” he says, snapping back to reality.

“A few weeks ago,” she answers nervously. “When you said you cared about me. Did you mean it?”

“Of course,” he says. “We all--”

“Even though I’ve killed someone?” she interrupts. 

“Yes,” he answers. “I mean, it’s not exactly a great situation to be in, but we all still care about you.”

“I mean  _ you _ ,” she says. “Do you still care about me?”

Arry watches him, chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for him to answer. She looks so tiny and fragile, soaking wet and shivering, her eyes wide and scared. Gendry knows she isn’t as tough as she wants people to think, but sometimes he forgets just how vulnerable she really is. But now her hard exterior is completely gone and he sees her  for what she is: a scared young girl who has been forced to do some terrible things because of unfortunate circumstances in her life. Arry doesn’t like to let anyone see this side of her and the fact that she’s let Gendry get a glimpse isn’t lost on him.

“Of course, I do, Arya” he says, his voice soft. “I always will. No matter what.”

He wonders if Arry knows exactly what he’s saying. He wonders if she knows he’s admitting something to her that he’s only just recently admitted to himself. He watches her nervously, feeling as though these next few moments are going to be the most important moments of his life.

And Arry leans forward and wraps her arms around his waist, buying her face into his chest. Without thinking, Gendry folds her up in his arms, not even caring that she’s getting him just as wet as she is. She starts to shake and he thinks she might be crying. He strokes her hair, all the while holding her tight.

Then she looks up at him. Before he can realize what’s happening, they’re kissing. And fuck, he really,  _ really _ shouldn’t be doing this. Arry’s drunk, she’s vulnerable, and she’s out of his league. He pulls away from her and she frowns.

“I’m sorry,” he says, not meeting her eye. “I can’t.”

“But, I thought…” Arry trails off. “You said…”

“I care about you,” he says. “I do. And I do want this.  _ Gods _ , I want this. But I can’t. Not like this. You’ve been drinking and it wouldn’t be right. Besides, you’ll feel differently in the morning.”

“I won’t,” she protests. 

But Gendry won’t have any of it. He pulls away from her and shivers as he feels the cold air of the flat on his wet clothes.

“Not this way,” he says. “I want… I don’t want you doing this just because you’re upset.”

Arry doesn’t answer. He can see her lower jaw tighten and her nostrils flare. Angry tears are starting to well in her eyes and Gendry feels like an absolute ass.

“Dry off and get to bed,” he says. “We’ll talk in the morning. I won’t… I won’t tell anyone what you told me. About the Faceless Men.”

Arry still doesn’t answer. She crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously, trying to compose herself.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Really, I am. I…”

They stare at each other for a few seconds before Gendry leaves and heads to his room. He doesn’t end up showering that night. He goes straight to bed, but spends all night tossing and turning. He replays the whole scene in his head, wanting to kick himself for how it played out. He fully expects Arry to go right back to ignoring him in the morning. Maybe even for her to just up and leave in the middle of the night. 

Gendry wouldn’t put anything past her right now. He wants to go back out there just to make sure she’s alright and doesn’t do anything stupid, but he doesn’t. He upbraids himself for being such a coward, but he doesn’t do anything to change the situation. He stays in his bed all night, sinking deeper and deeper into a foul mood until he finally drifts off into a fitful sleep.

The last thing he expects to wake up to the next morning is Arry in his bed. Yet, there she is, straddling him over the covers. She looks like she has slept about as well as he has and Gendry would bet that she’s got killer a hangover. 

“It’s morning,” she says. “And I’m angry with you. But I don’t feel any different.”  
  
Before he can protest (or even fully comprehend what’s going on), she’s kissing him again. And this time, Gendry doesn’t stop her.


	16. XVI

The warm weather heats up their blood and Arry and Gendry fuck. A lot. 

At first, Gendry tries to be a gentleman about it. He knows Arry is having a lot of mixed feelings about life right now: she wants to avenge her father and the only way she can see to do it is through working for the Faceless Men, but the act of actually killing people is hard on her. He makes himself available to her as a shoulder to lean on, as some sense of stability and support while her life is barrelling into a new direction. And if they happen to sleep together, well it’s just one of those things.

But as the weeks go by, Arry settles into this new aspect of her job with an alarming ease. She isn’t as unsure, she isn’t as scared. And yet, she doesn’t stop coming to Gendry’s room at night. Or in the early morning. Or Saturday afternoons when Hot Pie is out grocery shopping. And Gendry does nothing to stop it.

Hot Pie walks in on them in the kitchen one day.Neither Gendry nor Arry knows if he’s ranting because he’s upset that they’ve been sneaking around under his nose or because they’ve sullied the sanctity of his kitchen. In any case, they make a decision to stick to either Gendry’s room or Arry’s mattress for their escapades. And of course their secret is out.

“I told you he was shagging her,” Lem says to Anguy one night at The Peach.

This earns him a swift punch in the arm from Arry, a shrug from Gendry, and a laugh from everyone else.

Things are good. Better than good, actually. The sex itself is amazing. Arry is a little inexperienced, but she’s adventurous and flexible. And she really,  _ really _ likes it when he calls her Arya, so he’s taken to using her real name as often as possible when they’re alone.

Gendry stops worrying about his feelings. He’d been so convinced something like this wouldn’t work because of how much lower than her he was on the social stratum. But, Arry quickly and enthusiastically lets him know that she doesn’t care about that. It’s the best Gendry’s felt in a while.

He’s lying on his back, gripping Arry’s hips so hard he’s sure to leave bruises. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she bites down on her lower lip to keep from crying out as they frantically move with each other during the final throes. Gendry finishes first with Arry slumping down on his chest not long after. After, they lay their catching their breath and sticky with sweat. Gendry feels like he’s floating.

Eventually Arry sits up and rolls off of him, eliciting a groan from Gendry isn’t recovered enough to move.

“We’re really good at this,” he says when he can form sentences again.

Arry laughs and agrees. Then she goes silent and Gendry follows suit.

This is is the only hard part about what they do; after sex, Arry has a tendency to retreat into herself. Gendry hasn’t said anything because she doesn’t do it all the time, but he notices when she pulls away. And when he notices this, that small voice inside his head starts up again, telling him he isn’t good enough for her and this is all going to end horribly.

He looks at Arry out of the corner of his eye, trying not to make it very obvious that he’s watching her. She stares up at nothing as she catches her breath and drums her fingers across her bare stomach. He wonders what she’s thinking about, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he pushes himself up in bed and reaches for the crumpled pack of cigarettes he keeps on the nightstand. He hopes that smoking will silence that voice in his head.

When Arry notices he’s gotten a cigarette, she rolls over and bums one off of him. She still doesn’t speak, though. She sits up, crooking her knees so she can rest her elbows on them. That’s when she notices Gendry watching her.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” he answers, flicking his eyes away from her face. He instead, traces the outline of her body in the dim light, following each angle and curve, stopping momentarily on her small breasts, and ultimately landing on her stomach.

“Your scar looks better,” he says.

She looks down at the ugly white gash, somehow paler than the rest of the too-pale skin around it. It had been an ugly red color for the longest time, but Thoros had worked wonders on it. It was still ugly, but no longer as noticeable.

“I forget it’s there sometimes,” she admits. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, so I don’t think about it.”

He tentatively sticks his hand out to run a finger over it. Arry’s stomach twitches a little bit when his fingers make contact, but she doesn’t pull away. When he reaches the jagged edge, he pulls his hand back. The silence is uncomfortable.

He wonders why things are so different for her after sex. Since he’d first gotten her to open up to him, she has spent countless hours with him listening to records, watching telly, or just hanging around. Now that they are sleeping together, Arry has no problem touching or kissing him. They share everything. And yet Arry shuts him out after they’re intimate. It would be hilariously ridiculous if it didn’t make Gendry feel sort of sad.

Arya raises an eyebrow at him and asks: “Why the long face?”

He didn’t realize that he had been frowning.

“I’m just thinking,” he answers.

“About what?” she asks, blowing out smooth stream of smoke.

He almost doesn’t tell her, but he decides if they can share each other's’ beds, they can share this.

“About you,” he says. “About this.”

He motions to the air between them.

“You just said we were really good at this,” Arry says with a smirk. “You shouldn’t be frowning. I’m a little insulted.”

“No, not the sex,” he says. “That part’s good. Great even. It’s this part. The after part.”

Arry’s smirk drops a little and she compulsively takes a drag off of her cigarette. Gendry is glad of it, only because it proves she’s been distant on purpose and it isn’t just in his head.

“It isn’t every time,” he continues. “But it’s enough to be a little worrisome. Have I done something to upset you?”

“No,” Arry replies.

“Then what is it?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she reaches past him and stubs her cigarette out on the little ashtray he keeps on the night stand. After doing so, she slides into his lap facing him. He can feel his cock twitch again, even though he knows it’s too soon to do anything about it.

“It’s nothing,” she says, but her voice is lacking conviction. “You always think I’m upset with you."

“It’s difficult not to,” Gendry says. “You keep so much to yourself. I never know what you’re thinking.”

Arry bites her lip again. Gendry wants to make her stop, to kiss her until she’s in a better mood, but he doesn’t.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind is all,” she finally says.

“I’ll bet you do,” he says. And then he snakes his hands up around her waist. “You know you can tell me what’s bothering you. You can trust me.”

“I know,” she answers, but she says it like she doesn’t. Gendry sighs.

“It’s sort of stupid, isn’t it?” he asks. “I know what sort of things you do. I’m not scared of you if that’s what you’re worried about. And I’ve given up on lecturing you. You don’t listen anyway.”

That elicits a small laugh from her.

“I don’t like seeing you go away like that,” he continues. “In your mind. It’s unnerving.”

“Thought you weren’t scared of me,” she says, a teasing tone underlying her voice.

“I’m not,” he reiterates. “It’s just spooky is all.”

Arry rolls her eyes, but there is a smile on her face.

“I’ll try to get better about it,” she says. “But I’m not making you any promises.”

“I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get,” he replies.

She nods, but he’s not satisfied.

“If you don’t like seeing me go away, why don’t you do something about it?” she asks. “Bring me back. I’m sure you can find a way.”

She says this last part as she grinds her hips slowly down onto his.  
  
“Arya Stark,” he says. “You are _insatiable_.”


	17. XVII

It never even occurs to Gendry to bring up the subject of exclusivity. Arry is so weird about letting people in that he doesn’t think she would allow anyone else get close to her the way she’s has with him. And he honestly doesn’t think anyone else has the fortitude to put in the effort. Arry can be downright mean when she wants to and that is discouraging for a lot of people.

It isn’t discouraging to Ned Dayne, however.

It’s no secret among their group of friends at The Peach that Arry and Gendry are sleeping together. They were teased relentlessly for the first few weeks after their secret was let out, but the novelty of it soon wore off (partly due to Arry making good on a few threats). Everyone just knows that fucking is something they do. But Ned Dayne isn’t happy with it.

Arry seems oblivious to it, but Gendry can tell that Ned is harboring feelings for her. He can’t entirely blame him--after all, he’d pined after her for months--but he can blame him for the way he acts because of it. Ned had enjoyed Arry’s undivided attention when they’d first met because he had stories about her favorite brother. But since she grew tired of hearing the same stories repeated over and over again, she treats him just the same as everyone else and that annoys him. Ned seems to hold a particular grudge against Gendry, knowing that he is the one Arry is closest to. And while Gendry and Ned had never been particularly good friends, Ned is outright rude to him now.

Of course, Arry tells him it is all in his head, that Ned doesn’t give two shits whether or not they’re fucking, but Gendry doesn’t trust Arry to notice whether or not someone is interested in her. So he tries to keep his mouth shut whenever Ned snubs him. But honestly, after he has a few drinks, it’s really,  _ really _ hard.

Gendry, Arry, Anguy, and Lem are sitting around their table discussing football. Or rather, Gendry, Anguy, and Lem are discussing football while Arry makes exaggerated groaning noises to get them to stop. She doesn’t appreciate the sport the way they do and she isn’t afraid to let her displeasure show. If it were any other girl, Gendry would have found it annoying, but it’s kind of endearing when Arry does it. That’s how he knows he’s completely fucked when it comes to her.

“C’mon Arry,” Lem says when he’s had enough of her moanin. “Go to one game. Jus’ one game. I promise you’ll love it.”

“If I want to watch two boys kick a ball back and forth, I’d just watch the neighborhood children do it,” she answers. “No point in getting all worked up over that.”

Lem looks las if she’s insulted his mother.

“Gendry, lad, you need to do something about this one,” he says, jerking a thumb in her direction.

“As if I could,” Gendry snorts into his drink. Arry looks very pleased with herself.

Lem makes a noise of disgust before downing the rest of his beer and letting out an almighty belch.

“I’m done with the lot of you,” he says. “I won’t sit here and let the blessed sport of football be slandered like this.”

Arry shoots him a smug grin and waves him off. Lem pushes himself up from his chair and lumbers toward the bar. Anguy sits in silence for a few seconds before shooting a look at Gendry, winking, and leaving as well.

“I saw that,” Arry says. “That wink. What was that for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gendry replies, feigning innocence. “Perhaps he has something in his eye.”

“You’re full of shit,” she says, nudging him softly with her elbow.

“You like it,” he tells her.

“Only sometimes,” she says, smiling.

Gendry finds it hilarious that Arry really only started flirting with him after she’d already gotten into his trousers. It is very on-brand.

However, before any of the flirting can continue, the are interrupted by Gendry’s least favorite person. Ned Dayne swaggers up to the table and, uninvited, takes the open seat across from Arry. Gendry valiantly represses the urge to kick his shins beneath the table.

“Hello Arya,” Ned says, and Gendry can’t help but notice that he hasn’t greeted him. He doesn’t expect him to. “Have you seen the news lately?”

“I’ve seen  _ some _ news,” she answers, not nearly annoyed with Ned as Gendry wants her to be. “Why?”

“They’ve made your brother Commander of the Night’s Watch!”

“What? Jon?” she asks excitedly. “But he’s so young!”

“I know,” he says. “But they’ve done it anyway!”

The Night’s Watch are an elite military force that only take the best of the best soldiers into their ranks. Arry’s brother had only joined the army a year or two ago, so for him to be a member of the Watch, much less Commander is a big deal.

Arry immediately starts pressing Ned for information, and the latter is only too happy to give it to her. Gendry doesn’t mind hearing about Arry’s brother; for the most part he likes hearing about Arry’s life before she crawled into his, but he just can’t stand to listen to Ned talk. Especially since he’s gone out of his way to exclude Gendry from the conversation.

“I’m getting another drink,” he says abruptly. “D’you want anything while I’m up, Arry?”

“No, I’m fine,” she says.

“I’ll take another pint, if you don’t mind,” Ned chimes in.

“I was asking Arry,” Gendry says curtly.

Ned’s lips grow thin and his cheeks flush red. Arry shoots Gendry a dark glare.

“Of course he’ll buy you a pint, Ned” Arry says. “Gendry’s just being stupid.”

Gendry swallows his anger and stomps off toward the bar. He orders another pint for himself and the cheapest, most disgusting swill on tap for Ned. He drops the pint off with an unceremonious clunk, purposefully sloshing some of it onto the table. Then he pushes his way to the front of the bar, leaving Ned swearing and Arry calling after him in annoyance.

She finds him two beers later, and she is very unhappy.

“The fuck’s matter with you?” she asks furiously.

“Nothing,” he mutters darkly.

“You were a complete ass to Ned,” she chastises. “I know you don’t like him, but you didn’t have to be rude.”

Gendry scoffs. Of all people lecturing him on being rude.

“He can be an annoying twat,” she says. “But he isn’t as bad as you think he is.”

“I don’t like him,” Gendry replies. “I can’t help that I don’t like him.”

“You can at least be a fucking adult about it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh, like  _ he _ is?” Gendry asks. “He doesn’t like me either if you haven’t noticed.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she says. “He doesn’t dislike you.”

“He does,” Gendry says. “He hates me because he fancies  _ you _ .”

Some color rushes up to Arry’s cheeks and Gendry can feel his stomach clench in anger.

“Don’t be stupid,” she says. “He’s just a friend.”

“Sure,” he replies petulantly. “A friend that wants to shag you. Why do you think he finds excuses to come sniffing ‘round you all the time?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he likes my company and we have things in common,” Arry says. “I like you all and he does too, but there’s some things you all just don’t understand.”

“Like growing up rich and pampered?” Gendry says bitterly. But he regrets it the moment he sees the look on Arry’s face.

“I can’t help what family I was born into,” she says, almost shouting at him. “ _ Fuck _ , this is exactly why I can’t talk to you about it. You get bitter and angry with me for stuff I don’t have any control over.”

“I don’t get angry with--”

“Yes you do!” she interrupts. “I’m sorry you had a shit childhood, I really am. I would change things for you if I could. But I can’t. It isn’t my fault we were raised differently. And it’s not my fault I can talk to Ned about it. I thought you’d be happy that you wouldn’t have to hear me ‘bragging’ about growing up with money, but I guess I was wrong.”

She  _ is _ yelling now. And she looks like she wants to cry. The bar patrons around them have grown silent and are openly staring. Gendry wants to argue with her, tell her that she’s wrong and that’s not why he’s mad. But he knows she won’t listen. Not when she’s like this. It’s the one thing he doesn’t like about her.

“Fine,” he says. And then again. “Fine.”

He stands up and throws a handful of pounds on the bar for Tansy.

“Go talk to Ned, I don’t care,” he says. “I’m heading out.”

He wants Arry to stop him, to tell him not to go, but she doesn’t. She stands there, arms across her chest, glare on her face, watching him as he leaves The Peach. Although the night outside is warm and balmy, he feels cold.


	18. XVIII

Arry doesn’t come to his bed for over a week. She doesn’t talk to him either, and he doesn’t try to speak to her. They’re both still angry. Truthfully, Gendry has been over the issue with Ned for a few days; now he’s just resentful that Arry is still being stubborn about it. And he’s hurt too. He thought she would have taken his word and treated his complaints seriously, but he supposes he’s been wrong. He’s angry about that too. Mostly he’s angry with himself.

On the fourteenth day of silent treatment, Hot Pie breaks. 

Gendry walks into the flat and sets his keys down as Hot Pie and Arry are rummaging about the kitchen. Although they are effectively ignoring each other, the tension is palpable. Hot Pie slams his cooking spoon down so loudly it makes them jump.

“This is  _ fucking _ ridiculous,” he says, shocking them by swearing with such gusto. “Whatever you two are arguing about, just move the fuck on. I’m tired of my home feeling like a ticking bomb.”

Arry and Gendry exchange glances, they first they’ve done in two weeks, and then they’re being chased out of the flat by their fed-up friend.

“Don’t come back until you’re speaking to each other again!” he says, using his sizeable girth to block the entry-way so neither can bully their way back inside. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not either of you’s mum.”

And before they can argue, Hot Pie slams the door on them. And it’s when they hear the sound of the lock sliding into place that they realize neither of them has their keys.

Arry immediately begins to bang on the door. Hot Pie responds by singing loudly as he goes back to work in his kitchen.

Gendry is angry again. It seems like it’s the only emotion he ever feels anymore. But even through his anger he can see the futility of Arry continuously pounding on the door.

“You can stop that,” he says shortly, and it’s the first words he’s spoken to her in a fortnight. “He’s not going to answer.”

Arry stops knocking only momentarily to shoot him a death glare. Then she resumes in earnest.

Gendry rolls his eyes and makes a sound of annoyance. He is sure she can (and will) keep this up all night if he lets her, but he’s not exactly enamored of the idea of the neighbors calling the police on them for a noise violation. He sighs as he realizes there’s only one way to get her to leave. She isn’t going to like it.

“The fuck?!” she exclaims as he wraps one arm around her waist and hauls her over his shoulder. “Put me down, you idiot!”

“I will,” he says, wincing as she starts to rain blows down on his back. She is little, but she is fierce. “Once we get away from that door. And stop hitting me. Trust me, I’m not happy about this either.”

To his neighbors’ credit, he only gets a few stares as he carries her literally kicking and screaming to the alleyway beside their building. He sets her down and immediately regrets it. He knows he should have expected the punch to the gut, but he doesn’t.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping to his knees. He thinks he might throw up.

“Why did you do that?” she demands angrily.

“He wasn’t going to let us back in,” he manages to say, clutching his middle with one arm while bracing himself on the ground with the other. 

“He would have eventually,” she spits back, not even looking the tiniest bit concerned for him.

He spits out what he thinks might be stomach vile and mutters, “and you think  _ I’m _ stubborn.”

“You are,” she says, fixing him with a pointed look. Her stormy grey eyes are furious. “And stupid. And you ruin  _ everything _ .”

“ _ I _ ruin everything?” he asks.

“Yes,” she answers. “Or have you forgotten how much of an ass you were being at The Peach?”

“Ned was being an ass,” he argues, pushing himself up gingerly to a standing position. The urge to vomit has subsided, but he does feel off-kilter.

“No he wasn’t,” she says, but Gendry interrupts her.

“Oh yes he was,” he says accusingly. “Not to you, but to me. But  _ you _ didn’t notice because you don’t care about anything that isn’t about you.”

“That’s not--” she starts, but Gendry isn’t finished. He can feel all of his pent-up frustration with her bubbling up and he can’t stop it from spilling out.

“You didn’t care about that because Ned wasn’t disrespecting  _ you _ ,” he continues. “If he had, you’d have laid him out and bitched at me for not telling him something. But you don’t care when he does it to me because  _ I _ don’t matter to you. Just like you didn’t care about all those times I stayed up worried sick about you, thinking you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere because  _ I don’t matter _ .”

“I  _ did _ care!” she protests. “I woke you up when I came home..”

“You did that because you felt guilty,” he argues. “It wasn’t because you felt any sort of remorse or me.”

She sets her jaw and walks up to him. He braces himself for another punch, but she reaches up and slaps him hard across the face instead. There are tears forming in her eyes and her nostrils are flared.

“I cared,” she says. “I didn’t  _ want _ you to worry yourself sick over me. I  _ kill _ people, Gendry. And before that, I’d rough ‘em up a bit. I didn’t think I was the type of person you should be worrying about. I didn’t think I was good enough. Clearly I was wrong.”

Gendry’s face stings from the slap and he feels guilty for seeing the tears in Arry’s eyes. But he must be stupid, because he keeps talking.

“You’ve always got some explanation,” he says. “Why can’t you just admit that you can be a shit sometimes? I won’t even be angry about everything else if you can just admit that.”

She hardens her eyes again, but doesn’t slap him. She doesn’t do anything other than stand there and stare. Gendry can feel some of the fight leaving him.

“You… you just frustrate me so much sometimes,” he says, losing steam. He’s so tired of this. “When I’m around you, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years. But you also make me so unbelievably furious.”

“Then maybe I should leave,” she says.   


“No, that’s not--”

“I’ve been meaning to anyway,” she says. “I don’t have to stay here. I can work for the Faceless Men in another city. I only stuck around because…”

“Arya,” he says. 

“No,” she cuts him off. “I’m not…  _ good _ at this. I’ve  _ never _ been good at this. But I’m trying. I’ve been trying.”

Gendry is a little taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. She sounds raw and nervous. And Gendry feels terrible.

“Maybe I  _ am  _ a shit sometimes,” she concedes. “But you aren’t perfect either. You’re moody and stubborn and-- _ fuck _ \--dealing with you is just so exhausting. Everytime I mess up with you, you start brooding and I get so angry, I can’t even speak to you. That’s not… normal people don’t act like that, do they?”

“No,” he says quietly.

She sounds unsure of herself, little and scared, and suddenly Gendry remembers that she’s just a teenager. A teenager whose life went to shit a year ago who might not be prepared to deal with his bullshit along with hiding out from people who want her dead. She hasn’t had as much practice as he has. And she has the added challenge of being in an environment she’s completely unfamiliar with. Gendry has been stupid. Gendry has been really stupid.

“I’m sorry about the Ned thing,” she says. “You won’t have to deal with it anymore.”

She turns to leave, but Gendry grabs her arm. She turns to look at him and she just looks so tired. Gendry’s heart breaks for her. He apologizes. He apologizes for being stupid and for being just as bad as he’d accused her of being. He apologizes for making her cry and for everything he can think of. 

And then he’s kissing her, tentatively at first and then enthusiastically when he feels her return the kiss. Someone’s crying. It could be her, it could be him, it could even be both of them. It doesn’t matter.  
  
They stay in the alley for a long while after, talking about anything and everything. It’s the most open and naked they’ve ever been with each other and it’s the most frightening thing in the world. But he feels a lot better three hours later when they trudge back to the front door of their flat hand in hand asking Hot Pie to please open the door and let them have dinner.


	19. XIX

“It’s just disgusting,” Lem says to him one night.

Gendry cocks an eyebrow inquisitively.

“The two of you,” he motions to Arry across the bar. “Go back to fucking or fighting. I can’t stand this… whatever this is.”

“I believe it’s called ‘romance,’” Tom says as he passes by with a few mugs of beer in his hand, and Gendry snorts.

“It’s disgusting,” Lem re-iterates, just as Arry walks back to the table. She hands Gendry a beer and he gives her a quick peck on the cheek just to get a rise out of Lem. Arry rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flush a little and she smiles.

“Sounds like jealousy to me,” Arry says, matter-of-factly.

“Of course it’s jealousy,” Gendry says. “He’s been mooning after me for years.”

“You’re not my type, Waters,” Lem says. “Your tits are too small.”

“My one fault,” Gendry agrees, sagely. “Although, they’ve got a surgery now. I could still be your ideal woman.”

“Wouldn’t feel the same,” Lem says. “I’ll leave you to Arry here and be done with you.”

“You’re too kind,” Arry says. “Although for what it’s worth, Gendry, I think your tits are perfectly adequate.”

“Disgusting,” Lem repeats again. “And I see you haven’t brought  _ me _ a new beer.”

“You didn’t ask when I got up,” Arry replies. “And I’m not a barmaid anyhow.”

“Bah,” Lem says, getting up from the table. “Useless. I guess I’ll get my own. Oi, Tansy! Pour us another drink then, love!”

Lem leaves the two of them at the table as he wanders up to the bar.

“He’s been in a good mood lately,” Arry says.

“Yeah,” Gendry agrees. “The last show we played, he says there was a representative from a record company in the crowd. He thinks they want to sign us.”

“Really?” Arry says, shocked. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I only believe about half of what Lem says,” Gendry tells her.

“Would he lie about something like that?” she asks.

“Not lie,” Gendry says. “But exaggerate maybe.”

“So there could be some truth to it?”

“Could be,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Arry nudges him in the ribs. It hurts only a little bit.

“Even if it’s only a little true, you should have told me,” she says. “It’s great news for The Brotherhood.”

“Yeah... “ Gendry agrees, although he doesn’t sound very enthused.

“What is it?” she asks, sensing the tone in his voice. “What could possibly be wrong with that?”

“Record label means touring,” he says. “Touring doesn’t pay much. I can’t exactly afford to quit my job at Mott’s. Wouldn’t be able to keep the flat.”

“So don’t keep the flat,” Arry says, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“Where would you go then?” he asks. “With me and Hot Pie gone?”

“Well, I thought I might go along with you,” she says, a little bashfully. 

Gendry wants to kiss her right then and there, but instead he squeezes her hand under the table. 

“Besides, my job wants me to start traveling anyway,” she adds.

“They do?” he raises an eyebrow.

Arry nods.

“They don’t want me to stay in one place too long,” she continues, looking somewhat guilty. “For safety reasons. They’ve actually wanted me to move on for a while”

“...For how long?”

“A month,” Arry says. “And a half.”

“Arya,” Gendry says, as if he’s scolding her. “Arya, you should have left long ago if it’s not safe.”

“I can handle myself,” Arry replies. “And besides. I did try to leave, remember? But you were very persuasive in getting me to stay.”

She’s trying to be light-hearted, but Gendry isn’t very amused.

“Arya, I don’t want you to go, but I want you to stay safe,” he says. “If you need to get out… I can leave with you.”

“I thought you just said you couldn’t afford to quit Mott’s to tour,” she says. “Now you want to run leave for no reason?”

“That’s different,” he says. “Touring is touring. This is for your safety. I can get a factory job somewhere and be able to live comfortably. Or--more comfortably than when I’m touring.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Listen, if what Lem said is true, you might be touring anyway, and I could come with you. That would solve the whole moving away problem. Let’s not worry about it now, okay? A few more weeks won’t make any difference.”

Gendry doesn’t believe her, but he doesn’t want to argue with her. Not after things have been going so well with them.

“Alright,” he says uncertainly. “But if nothing comes of that record deal, promise me you’ll leave town, with or without me.”

“I will,” she assures him. “Preferably with you, unless you weren’t serious about leaving with me.”

“I was,” he says. “I am.”

And it’s then Lem comes back with his beer in hand. Although he’s drunk, he notices the change in their atmosphere.

“I interrupting somethin’?” he asks.  
  
“Not at all,” Arry says, deftly steering the subject back to something more pleasant. “Gendry’s just told me you met with a representative from a record company. Tell me everything.”


	20. XX

“I told you I wasn’t lying,” Lem says to Gendry smugly as they set up for their show. “He’s right over there.”

Gendry pauses momentarily to peer out into the crowd. He sees the usual people, a few new faces, and Arry giving him a little wave from her place over at the bar. But no one that looks important enough to be from a record company.

“I don’t see anything, Lem,” Gendry says dismissively.

“For fuck’s sake, mate, he’s right there!”

Lem points to a tall, thin man dressed a little more flamboyantly than the rest of the crowd. He has a thin, handsome face and long red hair, half of which has been bleached a stark white. He’s sipping a mixed cocktail and shoots a smile their way when he realizes Lem and Gendry are looking at him.

“ _ He’s _ a record producer?” Gendry asks skeptically.

“Something like that,” Lem answers. “I know, he looks like a nonce, doesn’t he? But you know what they say about looks being deceiving and all that.”

Gendry doesn’t quite buy it. Although Gendry’s never actually met a record producer before so he wouldn’t know what one looked like . He shrugs it off and goes back to setting up the equipment.

The show goes fairly well. Great even. Lem is a little more theatrical than usual, which Gendry is a little annoyed by, but the crowd eats it up. The energy in the room is electric. People actually seem to know their songs. And even more shockingly, they even appear to like them. Gendry doesn’t even care whether or not there is the possibility of a record deal after tonight; he’s feeling good just from the energy of the crowd.

There’s no backstage area (hard to have when you don’t really have a proper stage), so the band goes out behind the pub after the show to wind down. Arry meets up with Gendry to congratulate him. Even though he’s dripping with sweat and probably stinks, she jumps into his arms the second he puts his guitar down.

“I love watching you play,” she says, kissing him. “It’s very…”

“‘Sexy’,” he interrupts as he cups her bottom. “The word you’re looking for is ‘sexy.’”

“And he stays so humble,”  she laughs. 

Then she kisses him again. Gendry’s always a little wired after he plays. After every show, he looks for ways to ride the adrenaline wave until it subsides. He briefly wonders if Arry will consent to sneaking off into the W.C. with him for a quick shag or if he’ll have to wait until they make it back to the flat.

“Oi, loverboy,” Lem slaps Gendry’s arse hard enough that he almost drops Arry. “You can do that later. I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

“Prick,” Arry mutters under her breath. Gendry’s inclined to agree.

The back door of The Peach opens and the long haired stranger exits the building.

“Gendry Waters, yes?” he asks, the accent in his voice foreign and exotic.

“Uh, yeah,” he stammers, suddenly aware he’s holding Arry. She’s gone tense in his arms and Gendry awkwardly puts her down.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” the man says. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your performance. The company I represent has been interested in your band for quite some time. You in particular. You are one of the finest guitarists I have seen in a long while.”

Gendry can feel himself blush. He has never taken compliments very well, especially compliments that are obviously insincere. He doesn’t like being bullshitted, and people who flatter are usually bullshitting him.

“Thanks,” he says, distinctly aware that Arry is standing unnaturally still beside him. He glances her way for a second and sees a look of apprehension on her face as she stares at the record producer. The man looks toward her and flashes her a smile that doesn’t quite make it to his eyes.

“I have some things to discuss with your friend Mr. Lem,” The man continues. “It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Waters. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

Arry doesn’t move until the man and Lem disappear back into The Peach.

“You alright, Arya?” Gendry asks.

“No,” she says. “Shit.  _ Fuck _ .”

“Do you know that guy?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” she answers. And then she begins to swear again.

“We need to leave,” she says. “Now.”

Gendry is very confused, but doesn’t question her. Arry’s one of the toughest people he knows and if something has her worried, it’s probably something serious. He trusts her instincts and slings his guitar over his back, ready to head home.

“Should we get Hot Pie?” he asks, but she shakes her head no. Instead, she grabs his hand and begins to walk back to the flat, chewing her lip nervously the entire way home.


	21. XXI

“He’s not a record producer,” Arry says when they get back to the flat. She goes to the ice box and cracks open a beer downing half of it in record time.

“I gathered as much,” Gendry replies. 

“He knows about you,” Arry continues, although it seems as if she’s talking more to herself than Gendry. “Of  _ course _ he knows about you. I haven’t been careful.”

She’s pacing in the kitchen now, working herself up into a frenzy.

“It’s not safe,” she says. “I don’t know what they’ll do.  _ Fuck _ , I’m such a fucking  _ idiot _ !”

“Arya, look at me,” Gendry says, grabbing her shoulders. “Slow down. What’s going on?”

“He’s a Faceless Man,” she says, her voice about to crack. “He was the one training me.”

“Then why is he pretending to give us a record deal?” Gendry asks, trying not to panic. If he gave into the fear rising in his gut, Arry might too.

“I don’t know. To get you out of the way?” she suggests. “And there’s just the one thing Faceless Men do when they need someone out of the way. This is all my fault.”

She does crack then. Her eyes tear up and she begins to take big gulps of air. She looks how Gendry feels. He holds her just a little tighter.

“Is this… Is this because you stayed too long?” Gendry finally asks when Arry has control of her breathing again. She nods and Gendry feels guilty.

“Arya, I’m sorry,” he says. “This is my doing.”

It’s Arry’s turn to look confused.

“You wanted justice for your father, right?” he asks. “I made you stay here and mucked everything up. Don’t blame yourself. You tried to leave, remember?”

“Gendry, no,” she says.

“I’ve been selfish,” he continues. “I wanted you to stay. I wanted you to stay with me in this shitty little flat because I’d fallen for you. I wasn’t thinking about what you needed. And now this guy’s threatening me--threatening  _ you _ because of it. It’s my faul--”

Arry silences him with a kiss. 

“You idiot,” she says, tears falling onto her cheeks now. “You stupid, bull-headed idiot.  _ I _ wanted to stay here too. I… I love you.”

“I love you too, Arya,” he says grimly. He wraps her in his arms and wishes this wasn’t the first time they’d said it to each other.

“We could run away,” he suggests. “I meant it when I said I’d pack up and move with you if things got to dangerous.”

“I know you did,” Arry says with a sniff.

“You… don’t sound too enthused.”

“They’d just find us again,” she says. “They always find their mark.”

“Can’t you just tell them you want out?” he asks.

“If it was as simple as that, I would have done it already,” she replies. “You don’t get to just leave. You have to do it on their terms. And their terms are pretty non-negotiable.”

“So, what do we do?” he asks helplessly.

Arry doesn’t have an answer for him.


	22. XXII

She’s gone. Gendry knows it when he wakes up and finds her side of the bed empty and cold. He knows she won’t be anywhere else in the flat, but he slips on his shorts to check anyway. They’d talked about it the night before, decided the best thing was for her to leave and finish out her contract with the Faceless Men. He knew she was going to leave, but he didn’t think she’d do it so soon. And without even saying goodbye.

He sinks back into his bed, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. It is surprisingly easy for him to fall back asleep.

……………………………………...

“Can you believe that fucker?” Lem is in Gendry’s kitchen ranting at Hot Pie. “I called a representative from the record company. They’ve never heard of anyone named ‘Jaqen H’ghar!’”

“It was too good to be true,” Hot Pie says, and he actually does sound a little dejected about being lied to. “But maybe we can talk about this some other time, yeah?”

He shoots a pointed look over to Gendry who is sitting on the couch, trying to watch telly. The stupid machine won’t hold the picture and he’s getting angry. He really should have bought a new one ages ago like Arry’d suggested.

“You worthless piece of shit,” he says under his breath as he bangs on the side of the television set. “Work, damn you!.”

“Gendry’s fine,” Lem says dismissively. “He’ll meet a new bird and forget all about Arry in a week, you mark my words.”

Hot Pie looks nervously over toward him, but Gendry’s doing his best to ignore the conversation. He doesn’t want to talk about Arry to anyone. Especially not to Lem. And he doesn’t want to talk about this stupid record contract. He focuses all his energy on beating the television set until he hears something inside of it break.

“Fuck,” he says, as the picture goes to fuzz.

“Think it’s time for a new telly, mate,” Lem says. 

“I didn’t want to watch this bloody thing anyway,” Gendry says, getting up. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Right,” Lem says. “Let’s head down to The Peach for a bit, yeah?”

“No,” Gendry answers. “I’m going for a walk alone.”

Lem rolls his eyes.

“Suit yourself,” he says. “But when you’re done brooding, the lads and I will be waiting for you.”

…………………………………………………

Gendry doesn’t go back to The Peach that day. He doesn’t go back at all. He starts working long hours at Mott’s factory again. He even takes a second job. He doesn’t like being at home or at the pub or anywhere else he and Arry used to be together.

He’s so angry. He should have expected her to do something like this, to leave without telling him. She would have thought it would be easier for the both of them, ripping the bandage off quickly so to speak. He’s so angry with himself for not accepting this and for being able to move on. She was going to leave anyway, and at least she didn’t prolong it.

But logic doesn’t help. He thinks about how they made love before she’d left and how he would have done things differently if he’d known she would have been gone in the morning. He thinks that he hasn’t made good use of the little time they had together and it kills him. He’s alone in his bed at night and he hates it.


	23. XXIII

Harwin catches him at home one day. He’s got about 8 hours between shifts and Gendry wants nothing more than to pass out instead of talk, but he opens the door anyway.

“Tell Lem I’m not coming back,” he says as a greeting. “I’m done. I don’t want in The Brotherhood anymore.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” Harwin says. “I just wanted to talk. Everyone’s worried about you. Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Gendry says curtly. “Just been working a lot.”

“Hot Pie told us you’d gotten a second job,” Harwin says. “You need money for something?”

“No,” Gendry replies with a yawn. “I’m just fucking bored. It helps pass the time.”

Harwin bites at his lower lip, a tic Gendry has never noticed in him before. It reminds him of Arry, because of course it does. He can’t catch a break.

“I was thinking of leaving town,” Harwin says suddenly. “Moving back North to be with my family.”

“Yeah?” Gendry says, not even remotely interested in this conversation. “Good for you, I suppose.”

“There’s plenty of factory work up there,” Harwin continues a little nervously. “If you need to get out of town for a bit.”

Gendry is silent. He’s being ridiculous, he knows, wallowing in his own sadness. His moping must look so ridiculous to everyone else.

“Thanks, but I’m good here,” he says. “There’s nothing for me up north. And besides, Hot Pie can’t afford this place on his own.”

Harwin makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and shrugs.

“Just thought I’d ask,” he says. “See you around, mate.”

………………………….

A week later, Hot Pie approaches him nervously. Gendry hates that everyone is so anxious around him now, like he’s some fragile thing that’s going to break if you say the wrong thing. Although he supposes he can’t blame them. He hasn’t exactly been acting as if it’s not true.

“Gendry,” he says. “Have you seen the news?”

“No,” he replies in a monotone. “Why? Have the Stags finally beat the Dragons?”

Hot Pie silently hands him a newspaper. Gendry glances at the headline momentarily and then snatches the paper out of Hot Pie’s hands.

_ Stark Matriarch and Son Dead--Police Expect Foul Play  _

Gendry scans the article, reading the gruesome details about how Arry’s mother and eldest brother’s corpses were found mutilated and floating in the Green Fork. Arry’s got no one left now with most of her brothers dead, her sister a virtual prisoner of the Lannisters, and her half-brother away in the military. If she wanted to go back home, she wouldn’t have one to go to. She was an orphan now, like he was. He wants to rage.

Instead, he calmly puts the newspaper down and gets up in order to place a call to Harwin.


	24. XXIV

Gendry’s been living in the north for six years now, and he still isn’t used to the harsh winters. He meets up with Harwin at the end of the day to walk home from the factory, complaining every step of the way.

“This bloody beard does nothing,” he says. “I still can’t feel my face. I think there’s icicles in it.”

“I would say ‘you get used to it,’ but I’m not so sure about you anymore,” Harwin says with a laugh. “Your southron blood must be too thin.”

Gendry grumbles in reply as tromps through a particularly high snow bank.

Freezing temperatures aside, Gendry is surprised at how well he’s adapted to the North. Most of the land in the area is still undeveloped, so the population is a lot smaller than what he is used to. But it’s somehow less isolating than living in King’s Landing. Everyone knows everyone else here, and all of the neighbors are willing to help each other out, even a newcomer like him. And of course, everyone  _ hates _ the Lannisters. It is probably the happiest and safest Gendry has been in a long time. He understands why Arry liked it up here so much.

He still thinks of her often. Gendry has had a few flings with Northern girls since he’s moved here, but none of them have lived up to Arya Stark. He supposes that it’s unfair to them to compare them to her, but it doesn’t stop him from doing it.

_ “You stupid prick,” _ he thinks to himself sometimes.  _ “She’s probably forgotten all about you by now, anyway.” _

And yet he stays and waits.

Harwin asks if he’d consider moving back down to King’s Landing, but Gendry doesn’t think so. He says he likes it up here, that the factory work pays better, and that he can actually afford a flat by himself. All of those reasons are true and are part of the reason he wants to stay. But Gendry doesn’t tell him the main reason. 

Gendry stays in the North because King’s Landing has too many memories of Arry. He wants to be somewhere he won’t be bogged down with sadness and regret. The North is Arry’s home, but he’s making new memories  here, and these aren’t painful.

Also, he thinks about how Arry will have no one when she comes back. He knows how she can isolate herself. He doesn’t want her to go to that dark place again when she comes back.  _ If _ she comes back. He’ll be there for her since her family can’t.

“Gonna stop by the Smoking Log before I head home,” Harwin says. “Fancy a pint?”

“Not tonight,” Gendry says. “I’m going to go home. If I’m without heat any longer my bollocks might actually freeze off.”

“You ninny,” Harwin replies.

“See you tomorrow, then,” Gendry waves and parts ways with him.

His flat is small and shabby, but he makes the most of it. His furniture is all second-hand, but relatively decent, and the place is easy to keep clean. He’s got a small television set--one that actually  _ works _ \--a radio, and his record collection to help pass the time. He still has his guitar, but he doesn’t play it nearly as often as he used to. He finds that he doesn’t have the drive.

Gendry unwraps himself at the door then heads toward the small radiator to turn the heat on. After a few minutes of unsettling noises and some weird smells, the whole place is toasty and Gendry finally feels as if he’s thawed. He’s rummaging around the kitchen trying to decide what he’s going to eat for dinner when he hears a knock on the door.

He doesn’t get many visitors here. He’s on good terms with his neighbors, but he wouldn’t say he’s friendly with them. He cocks his eyebrow inquisitively as he heads toward the door to open it. 

“Can I help you?” he asks suspiciously.

The woman at the door looks at him apprehensively and Gendry’s jaw drops.

She’s changed a lot in six years. The first time he saw her, he thought Arry was a scruffy little street punk, all skin and bones with dirty hair and filthy clothes. The woman in front of him now barely resembles her. Her hair is long, shiny, and pulled back in a braid that hangs down to the middle of her back. She’s got a rounder curve to her hips and breasts, and her face is bright and clean. But it’s the same girl. He can see it in those familiar eyes.

“Seven Hells,” Gendry breathes. “ Arya Stark. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

She gives him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” she says.

He should be angry, but he’s not. He’s floating on air. Gendry waves off her apology and invites her inside from the cold. He offers her a cup of tea and heads toward the kitchen to put a kettle on. He half expects her to be gone when he comes back to the sitting room, that she’s just a figment of his lonely imagination, but she’s still there, looking around at what he’s made for himself in this little flat.

“I can’t believe you’re back,” he says. He feels like an idiot. He wants to ask her so many things about where she’s been all this time and what she’s been doing, but his brain can’t seem to do anything more than state the obvious: Arry’s back, Arry’s back, Arry’s back.

“My contract was up,” she says by way of explanation. “So here I am.”

They sit in awkward silence, not sure of what to say to each other. Six years is a long time. Gendry doesn’t know if she’s even still the same person she was when she left. He finally breaks the silence.

“Arya, I’ve missed you, so much,” he says. “It killed me when you left. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I know,” Arry says, dropping her gaze. “And I’m sorry. I thought it would be easier, but it wasn’t. At least, not for me. I’ve regretted it ever since.”

Gendry reaches for her hand and she doesn’t pull away.

“I was surprised when Hot Pie told me you’d moved up here,” she says. “I didn’t think you liked the cold.”

“I didn’t,” he replies. “Not at first. But it grew on me. And you always talked about going back home. I don’t know where you’ve been or what sort of news you’ve heard about your family, but…”

“I know about my mother and Robb,” she interrupts. “I heard about it a month after it happened.”

“I wanted you to have someone to come home to,” Gendry says. “I thought that if you hadn’t heard yet… Well, it might be easier.”

Arry shifts her hand in his, turning it so she can lock fingers with him. She gives his hand a squeeze and he returns it.

“You always were worrying about me,” she says.

“Because I cared about you,” he says. “I still do.”

She snorts dismissively and withdraws her hand.

“I’m not the same girl you knew back in King’s Landing,” she tells him. “You thought I was into shit then. But I’ve done so much worse since then.”

“You’re done with that now, though, right?” Gendry asks.

“Yes, but…”

“Arya, I don’t care what you’ve done,” he says. “I told you once I’d care about you no matter what. I meant it. I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but whatever it is isn’t going to change that. Even if… Even if you don’t feel the same way about me that you did six years ago. I’m still going to care for you.”

“Do you still feel the same way about me?” Arry asks him.

“I do,” he says. “I know it’s been six years, but I never once stopped thinking of you.”

“What if it’s been too long?” she asks calmly. “What if I’ve changed too much? What then?”

“I won’t abandon you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says. “Look, I’m not stupid. I don’t expect things to go right back to how they were, and I don’t expect things to be perfect. But I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Arry doesn’t say anything for a while, just swirls her tea pensively.

“I’m willing to try,” she says.


	25. XXV

They spend the next few days learning about what they’d each done in the past six years. And they spend the next few nights relearning each other’s bodies. By the end of the week, most of the awkwardness has melted away. 

Arry’s done some truly terrible things, but she’s done them in a way that she’s distanced herself from her actions. It’s almost as if some other girl was doing them, not Arry--at least that’s what she tells him. And Gendry believes it too. She acts differently sometimes, withdraws into herself the way she used to, has nightmares that makes her wake up in a cold sweat, wants to avoid certain topics until she’s ready to bring them up. It’s hard. But Gendry’s prepared. He’s patient and tries to be as understanding as he can. And soon it almost becomes easy to fall back into each other the way they had six years ago.

“Are you really okay with all of this?” she asks him nervously one night in bed. She’s chewing her lip, a nervous tic he never thought he’d miss. “I keep thinking I’m going to tell you something and you’re going to get spooked and run off.”

Gendry kisses her to get her to stop chewing her lip, just because he can.

“I wouldn’t say I’m okay with it,” Gendry answers. “But I can’t change what happened, can I?”

“That’s true,” Arry replies. “That’s very adult of you.”

“I’m very adult now,” Gendry says. “I’ve got a beard and everything. They don’t just let you have these, you know. You have to earn them.”

Arry--no  _ Arya _ \-- laughs for the first time since she’s been back. He’s missed that.

“Arya,” he says. “I’m never going to leave you. I’m absolutely fucked when it comes to you, do you know that?.”

“I certainly hope in a good way,” she says.

“The best way.”

And he kisses her again. And again. And again.


End file.
